If only this was all a dream
by Kagewalker
Summary: One night, Sweden's 2p counterpart visits him with information on how to get ultimate revenge on Denmark. What follows is complete chaos... Contains slight SuFin, moderate DenSu and maybe even some DenNor. Maybe.
1. Chapter 1

(Note: I have changed this chapter a little and added line breaks, as I realised that my blank spaces I made to do that job didn't come out properly, and that it would have been confusing. I will be doing this for the other chapters too.)

WARNING: the following chapters contains blood, psychological torment, violence and a pyromaniac. Do not read on if you are triggered by any of these.

* * *

"Good night Su-san!" Finland gave Sweden a radiant smile and retreated into his bedroom.

"Night." He said back, but was way too late. Finland probably hadn't heard him. He sighed and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth, a process he followed religiously. As he brushed them vigorously, he reflected on the day that had been. It had actually been okay. Apart from a minor scuffle with Denmark, it had actually been pretty tranquil. Norway had been unusually compromising too. It was almost like the calm before the storm. He spat out the frothy toothpaste into the basin. Blood stained the usually white froth a light pink. That was strange. He brushed it off as he put away his blue and yellow toothbrush into the cup the Nordics all shared.

As he was about to open the door, he could hear breathing outside. Denmark from the sound of it. Sweden couldn't help smiling. He had fought with him so often he could even recognise the sound he made when breathing. Sweden quickly wiped the smile off his face, ready to blank the man outside if necessary. Denmark's idiotically smiling face peered out from the door crack as he opened the door slowly.

"Goodnight Sverige!" Denmark remarked cheerfully and without waiting for a response quickly locked himself in the bathroom. Sweden felt tempted to put a chair or something against the door, but somehow felt that was a bit too mean.

"Night." Too late again. He reminded himself to work on his timing and trudged back to his bedroom, not really in the mood for sleep. Nevertheless he flopped onto the bed and fell asleep almost instantly after a long, drawn out sigh of contentment. What a lovely day.

* * *

Denmark emerged from the bathroom a whole new person. He always went to bed last because he didn't want the others to see him like this. His usually cheerful face was now adorned with a ragged frown. His shoulders stooped and the slight stubble on his face was suddenly much more noticeable. He was dreading the night. Night was hell for him.

He turned off all the lights in the house and briskly trotted back to his bedroom. It was the last sanctuary. The bright yellow light pooled into the now pitch black hallway. He hurried in and closed the door. After getting dressed in his pyjamas, even though they all lived practically in the middle of nowhere he made sure the curtains were fully closed, not even a crack was allowed to show. Next was the cupboard. He rammed the doors closed as quietly as he could and walked over to the wall socket, making sure the night-light was plugged in. He was about to get into bed when he stopped and walked back to the cupboard. He pushed the doors lightly. Closed. He had a sneaking suspicion that the curtains were slightly open and re-arranged those. Just in case. Oh no wait, did he close the door? He turned around to look at the door. Closed. But it can't have been fully closed, can it? He pushed it lightly. It was closed. He stopped himself just before jumping into bed. The night light was plugged in right? It would be a disaster if it wasn't. He just had to check. It was plugged in. Oh, but the cupboard door. He swore he could hear a creaking noise that could only have been the cupboard door. Closed.

This went on for fifteen minutes before he could bring himself to go to bed. By this time he was so tired by his worrying that he dozed off immediately. Denmark had OCD, and he had it bad. None of the Nordics knew, but that would very soon change.

* * *

"Wake up."

Sweden grunted and turned over.

"Berwald, wake up you idiot." This time he sat bolt upright, spooked at having his name spoken. It had been such a long time since he had been called by that name. He looked around. He was still in his room, but it was pitch-black. What did anybody want with him in the middle of the night?

"Finland?" He mumbled groggily, slightly pissed off that he had been woken at such an ungodly hour. He rubbed his eyes. That's when he saw him. The stranger in his room. He had to clamp his mouth shut with his hand to stop himself from crying out. His vision was a bit blurry and he was not used to the dark so he fumbled for his glasses on his bedside table. After around 10 seconds of frantic searching he found them and quickly pulled them on. Much better.

It was a man, that much was clear. As his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness he could pick out more and more details. He was average sized, pretty tall, but not as tall as he was. He seemed to be wearing a coat very similar to the one he usually wore, except it was red. Everything was either red or black on him. His hair was a pale blonde and cropped similarly to his own. Behind his glasses a pair of gleaming red eyes seemed to pierce into Sweden's very soul. He shuddered involuntarily at the sight and shuffled back against the wall. He reckoned he could easily take this bastard in a fight, but he still gave Berwald the creeps. The worst thing was that he was looked so damn familiar…

Suddenly something within Sweden clicked and he realised why he recognised him. It was a mirror image of himself! But something seemed off. The man was smiling broadly, waiting for him to realise, but it was no ordinary smile. Something purely evil lurked behind it.

Finally Sweden worked up the courage to speak up.

"Who- who are you?"

The stranger tilted his head to one side. "I'm you."

"Sure you are." Sweden remarked sarcastically and raised his eyebrows.

"No, really. Did you notice the similarities?" The man's head was straight now, and he gave him a radiant smile that eerily reminded him of the one Finland had given him before he had gone to bed. He shuddered again. This was slowly getting more and more uncomfortable. "I am your other half. We belong together." The stranger continued.

He let that sink in for a while. Sweden didn't know what to say. The weirdest thing was that if his body was working properly he would have jumped out of bed and knocked the man out immediately, but now he was rooted to the spot. He wanted to know more, especially about why the hell this 'other half' was here.

"Don't you just hate Denmark?" His other half suddenly asked, sounding completely serious.

Well that was random. "Yeah, I guess…" He responded vaguely.

"Do you ever want to end all your petty little battles for good? Don't you want to emerge as the clear victor?"

"Kind o-"

"Don't you ever want…" The stranger cut him off. " _Revenge?_ " He said, placing special emphasis on the word, almost spitting it out as if it were a piece of a rotten apple he had just bitten off.

Sweden had to think for a moment.

"Yes."

This had to be a dream.

"Then I know just what you should do."

"What?" He leaned forward like an eager child. He had a feeling this was going to be good. The man seemed to glow in the darkness with an ominous red light, illuminating all the furniture in a way that contorted everything into hideous monsters.

"Go into his room now while he is sleeping. Don't wake him up. Open his cupboard doors, open the curtains wide and yank the plug for his nightlight out of its socket. Oh, and when you go, leave the door open."

"And why should I do that exactly? Is anything supposed to happen?"

The mysterious man chuckled. "That's for you to find out."

Sweden blinked, and the man was gone. The room was empty. Was that supposed to be a dream? He didn't feel asleep. He sat in his bed for a while, thinking. Finally he got up and crept down the hallway to Denmark's room. He was so intrigued that there was no way he could not try it. Besides, it couldn't do any real harm, right?

He did as the stranger said and crept back to his room. Content, he fell back into a deep sleep.

* * *

Denmark slowly opened his eyes and stared at the glowing digital alarm clock next to him. One thirty. He always woke up at the same time every night. As his eyes slowly adjusted he realised that something felt off. He looked beyond the clock. The door was open.

Shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit.

His arm flailed over to the night light and with a practiced movement he flicked the switch. Nothing happened.

Shiiiiit. Shitshitshit. Shit.

He stared into the darkness beyond the door. Anything could pop out there at any moment and do something. His imagination went wild, racing ahead desperately. He imagined monstrous beings of all shapes and sized for god knows how long. Then a feeling struck him. Something else wasn't right. He slowly turned around to face the cupboard and the curtains.

Shit.

They were open, wide open.

Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit.

He huddled up into a ball, unable to take his eyes off any of the places, eyes darting nervously all over the room to check for any movement at all. In his mind he was being watched from the window, open to attack from the door and the monsters in the cupboard had escaped.

He was, in short, terrified. He wondered how long they had been like this. It felt like something had been done to him. He had no idea if he had been raped in his sleep or not, or whether he would wake up the next morning with fresh, unexplained scars. No, one thing was clear. He could not fall back asleep. He had to be on his guard against those _things_. Oh if only his night-light worked! He was too scared to reach for the main light-switch in case his arm was attacked by something, and even if he had the courage to he simply wouldn't be able. He was literally petrified in fear. He couldn't move, surrounded by the darkness and his imagination.

Oh god, was that a creaking noise he just heard? Shitshitshit. He looked towards the door. Nothing there, as far as he could see anyway. He checked the cupboard and the windows. Nothing. Maybe. They could be hiding behind the wide open doors. Another slight creaking noise was heard. He checked everything. Still nothing. He peered out the window, unable to shake the feeling that he was being watched. He swore he could see a face out there, staring straight at him. He tried to tell himself that it was only the tree in their back-yard, but he couldn't even believe himself. He abruptly pulled the covers over his face, but was unable to keep it there for more than a few seconds so that he could check the door again. They would take the opportunity to sneak up on him if he looked away. They lived in an old house, so it made a lot of noise. But Denmark abandoned all reason at night. He briefly considered making a run for it and sleeping with Norway, or even just the closest person, but the thought of being ambushed along the way made him curl up even tighter to wait for the sun to rise.

And so he stayed for the whole night. The hours dragged along like snails, the night seemed to never end. He had been crying. He wanted for it all to end, or at least for him to die. His imagination got wilder as the night progressed and soon he realised he would never just nod off.

* * *

Finally dawn came. The sun came up through the window, illuminating the tree and casting rays of warm sunlight onto his sleep-deprived face. He looked up. It was over. Finally he broke. He let out a pathetic choking sound as he flopped down on his belly. Never again. Ever. The relief was immense. He wanted to spring up and hug the first person he met. Eventually he got up and tentatively poked his head around the cupboard doors. Nothing there. As usual then. Denmark got dressed and went into the kitchen. Sweden was sitting there, eating a piece of toast and drinking black coffee. Sweden was always up first in the mornings.

"Morning." He said, sounding completely disinterested. He had completely forgotten what had happened last night, or at least shrugged it off as a dream.

Human speech. Denmark thought he had heard creepy whispers all around him that night, but this was the first fully human voice he had heard in what felt like years.

"Human." His voice was hoarse as hell. He frowned at the sound of it. God, he sounded like shit.

He ran up to Sweden and gave him a massive bear hug, tears streaming down his face. Sweden was frozen in shock, his toast halfway to his mouth. What the hell? Denmark never hugged him.

"Don't ever fucking leave me alone with _them_ again." He gulped, hugging him tighter.

Sweden was about to tell him to get off in not exactly a very polite way, but then realised that this guy was serious. He basked in the warmth of the hug and said nothing.

Eventually Denmark let go of him, revealing his face. He looked as if he had gone insane. He had bags under his eyes and they were red rimmed from crying the whole night. His eyes were still not used to being able to focus on one thing for more than a few seconds, leaving his eyes darting to the sides every so often. His hair was a complete mess and he generally seemed to have aged ten years.

For some reason he could not understand, this made Sweden really happy. He had looked like that himself on a few occasions. It served the bastard right.

Suddenly it all came back to him. So was that what that crazy stranger had meant? He had no idea what had happened, but it was obviously something. He followed Denmark with his eyes as he pulled up a seat and slumped down in it, leaning his head against the table.

"You look like shit. What happened?" He asked, trying not to sound curious.

Denmark lifted his head. "Oh nothing. Just a bad night's sleep." It crashed back down to the table with a thud.

"Oh poor you." Sweden remarked sarcastically. "But look on the bright side. You look like you're back to reality at least." He had no idea where those words had come from. It definitely wasn't something he'd usually say.

"No really. I'm fine." He mumbled groggily. He could have fallen asleep right there if he hadn't thought about the previous incident. He still had no idea how long those things were out of place, and what the hell they had done to him. There was no question about it, something definitely had happened. This made him feel really depressed, yet he still couldn't fall asleep. Not until he had figured it out. Then Denmark got an idea, maybe pain could get rid of those thoughts, or even better, knock him out. He started to repeatedly bash his head against the table. The pain felt good, it took his mind off the matter.

Sweden started chuckling. "You're funny today. You look suicidal." Suddenly he burst out laughing. "Honestly, the state you're in right now. It's so fucking ironic, you know?"

Denmark stopped bashing his head against the table and gave Sweden a haunted look. "Are you taking pleasure in this?"

Sweden took a calm sip of coffee and stared right back at him. It was strange; Denmark could swear that he saw his eyes flash red for a moment. But he was probably just hallucinating from any remnants of his horrid imagination.

"And what if I am?" Sweden smiled sweetly, but he could clearly see the hidden cruelty behind it. Denmark couldn't stand it; he lowered his gaze and rested his head against the table once more.

"I need a fag." He muttered and walked off to search for a packet of cigarettes, the best excuse he could muster to leave. He had a sudden craving he could not understand. He never bought cigarettes, but was sure he'd seen Finland buy a pack a while ago.

Sweden calmly finished up his coffee. He felt different. He was acting differently than usual. It was like it wasn't him speaking. Whatever it was, he didn't like it.

* * *

Norway and Iceland entered at that moment.

"Morning Sweden." They said in perfect unison.

"Morning guys!" He responded brightly, smiling at them automatically without even thinking.

They both stared at him, stunned.

Norway took a while to formulate his words, occasionally starting to say something, but then stopping mid-sentence. Finally he seemed to come to something that made sense. "Swe, are you going through a mid-life crisis or something?"

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not." He whispered mysteriously and winked at them. Okay, this was getting weird. By this point he would have ignored them.

"Okay, what the hell is going on here?" Iceland sounded worried.

"I dunno. I just feel different."

The two brothers looked at each other with a mortified look, then at Sweden.

"Yep, definitely mid-life crisis." Norway remarked.

"If it makes you feel any better, Denmark seems to be going through one too."

"WHAT?" They both cried.

"I don't know what's happening, but it's definitely not April fool's day." Norway muttered.

"Where is he now?" Iceland looked around frantically.

"He went to look for some cigarettes." Sweden rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "He looked like absolute crap. Sounds like something happened last night. You should speak to him." He continued making meaningful gestures at Norway.

"Thanks Swe." Norway gave him an odd look. "Are you sure you're okay?" He sounded genuinely worried for once.

"Fine, fine." Sweden said dismissively, grinning widely.

"That still gives me the creeps." Norway muttered. "Little bro, go wake Finny. He needs to see this."

"Don't call me that you asshole." Iceland hissed through gritted teeth, but still obediently went off towards the rooms. Norway went the other way to look for Denmark.

* * *

When Iceland came to Finland's room he noticed that he was already up. He was sitting on the bed petting his little dog.

"Morning Ice-kun."

"Good morning Fin."

They both smiled at each other. They could relate to each other the most out of all the other Nordics.

"You need to get to the kitchen." Iceland wasted no time with small talk.

"Why?"

"You have to see this."

"What? What's happening? "He stood up abruptly, leaving the dog half-asleep on the bed.

"It's-" Iceland scratched his head and gave Finland an apologetic look. "It's Sverige."

"What happened?" His eyes were wide with worry.

Iceland realised he might have given the wrong impression and tried to redeem himself. "Oh no, he's fine. Just… Different." He chuckled nervously.

"Take me to him." His lips were pressed together decisively. Iceland nodded and led the way to the kitchen table. By this time Sweden had managed to make himself another cup of coffee.

"Good morning my beautiful wife!" He grinned at him and took a large sip of coffee.

Finland stood almost rooted to the spot in shock. Sweden never casually smiled at him right off the bat.

"See what I mean?" Iceland gestured at the cheerful looking Sweden, who was partially ignoring them as he read the paper.

"Su-san?" Finland took a tentative step forward.

"Yes?" He looked up from his paper, still grinning.

* * *

That was when Norway entered supporting Denmark who was staggering dangerously, almost as if drunk. In his mouth was a cigarette, leaving smoke trailing upwards like a grey snake. His forehead was bright red from where he had been smacking it repeatedly against the wall in the lounge, and could only be stopped by Norway practically pulling him away from it.

"I see what you mean now." Norway sighed grimly, directing the comment at Sweden, who put down the paper and started sniggering.

"What's so funny?" Norway said indignantly.

The laughing only escalated until it was a full on guffaw. The others stared horrified at the man, unable to say anything. This was not the Sweden they knew.

Finally he stopped and took a deep breath, shaking his head at Denmark, a sadistic grin on his face.

"Oh Danmark. Have you been trying to commit suicide? Self-harm? Either way you've gone crazy!" He was giggling uncontrollably. "This is just too funny man. You're killing me!" He started laughing again, clutching exaggeratedly at his side.

"You bastard! Can't you see he's unstable!?" Norway shouted, advancing towards him ominously. But Denmark put a hand on his shoulder.

"Let me handle this." He wheezed, the cigarette falling from his mouth onto the wooden floorboards below. Norway quickly stamped it out and let go of him. Denmark staggered slowly over to the laughing Sweden. When he finally reached him he put a shaky hand on his shoulder. He suddenly stopped laughing and stared at the crazy man in front of him.

"Was it you?" He croaked. "Was it you who opened the curtains? Was it you who opened the doors and unplugged the light?"

"Me?" Sweden put a hand on his chest. "I would never do such a thing." He replied with sarcasm dripping off his voice.

He didn't know which was worse, thinking that _they_ had done all that, or that one of his best friends had purposefully done it to hurt him. "I'm gonna- I'm gonna…" His tired face filled with rage, a frightening sight for any normal person. "I'll kill you!"

"Ooh, I'm so scared!" He said with mock fright and stared back at him, his grin slowly twisting into something wholly malicious. His eyes flashed red, but this time they stayed that colour. That was the final straw. Denmark lunged at him, but Sweden neatly dodged it.

"You'll never win against me in that state." He chuckled.

The sound of a slap echoed throughout the silent room.

Sweden blinked. His cheek was burning. His eye colour briefly returned to its normal blue. What was he doing? 'This is going too far, even for me.' He thought briefly. But then revenge flashed through his head. No, Denmark deserved this. This was revenge for all those times. He was sure the others would agree. His eyes went back to red.

"Is that the best you can do?" He stood up to face Denmark, who lunged at him again. Sweden ducked and swiftly pulled a knife out of his coat and slashed upwards. Denmark's battle instincts briefly returned and he took a step back, but he was too late. The knife caught him on the cheek and left a deep scratch running from the corner of his mouth to right below the eye. Sweden quickly pocketed the knife.

It took a few seconds before Denmark could feel the pain. But when it finally came it hurt more than anything. Usually a scratch like this was nothing, he had suffered worse. But right now he was feeling really sensitive. He blinked a few times. This had gone too far. They never fought in the house or the floor might get bloodstains on it. Right now the scratch was pulsing blood, dripping the red liquid all over his clothes and the floor. He put a hand to his cheek to stop the blood flow, but it just seeped through his fingers. He was too stunned to say anything. He really hadn't expected this. Finally his exhaustion took the better of him and soon felt himself starting to lose consciousness, happy that he could finally get some sleep. Denmark slowly tilted backwards, until he toppled like a bowling pin flat on the floor. He was vaguely aware of the others' footsteps running over to him.

The last thing he saw before fainting was Sweden's smiling face staring right at him, the blood-red eyes piercing into his very soul as he waved him goodbye with a slight movement of the hand.

* * *

"Den? Den!?" Norway was crouching at his side, squeezing his hand in a panicked fashion. "Den, wake up! What happened? Den?" The other two nations kind of stood around him, not really sure what to do.

"Little bro, fetch some plasters and a cloth. Finny you stay with me. We need to find out what the fuck happened to Sweden."

Iceland ran off, this time too confused and upset to protest at being called little bro. Finland took a step back from Sweden.

"I don't know you." He shook his head, trying not to look flustered.

"Of course you know me. I'm Sweden!" He spread his arms out dramatically.

"You're not the Sweden I know." He took another step back. Sweden took two steps forward, making him gulp.

At this point Norway had had enough. He jumped in front of Sweden and gave him an angry look.

"What the hell is your problem Sverige?"

"Nothing at all."

"You know we don't fight with sharp weapons inside."

"Does it look like I care?" He raised his eyebrows quizzically.

"What's going on with you? You used to have pride, never kicking a man who's already down. Yet you just did. What the hell Sverige?!" Norway's usually passive voice was steadily getting angrier.

"I think you're being a little hypocritical here. Hey, Nor. Please don't tell me you've never wanted to do that to him before."

Norway stopped. "Well, yea-"

"Exactly!" Sweden cut him off.

"But I've never psychologically tortured him at least! God Sverige, have some pride."

"He told you about that? How do you know that I did it? What if it really was the monsters under the bed?"

"I doubt it."

"You know, I bet you the reason you're getting so annoyed over this is because you did it! You're just trying to cover it up by pretending to be angry." He crossed his arms and smirked.

"I would never do that to my Denmark!" Norway shouted indignantly.

"Getting possessive are we? That just goes to show what you think of him. Denmark isn't your toy! Goodness, I can't believe you'd do that to him. He's a nervous wreck!"

"You literally just admitted to doing it." Norway wasn't sounding too sure.

"I admitted to kicking him while he was down. Not anything else."

"You… you provoked him. He was obviously upset at you."

"Serves the bastard right. He needed to be taken down a peg."

Iceland came running back, holding a box of plasters and a cloth.

"I got them Nor!

Norway turned to face him for a second. "Good, plaster up the wound and wipe up any stains on the floor."

"Why do I have to? I just got them." He whined.

"Because we're having a situation here and I need to calm this big son of a bitch down." He roared, gesturing over to Sweden who was watching this with an amused look on his face. Iceland looked at him. Sweden mouthed "you're next" at him, making Iceland thankfully turn away to do what his brother had asked him.

"Anyway, that wasn't the point. You changed, and suddenly at that. Why?"

"What do you mean? I've always been like this." He put a hand to his chest and tilted his head to the side.

"No! The Sweden I know is shy, but he's kind and I love him!" Finland piped up at that point, raising his voice considerably. He was on the verge of crying. "You're not kind at all. You're just an impostor!" Finland pointed an accusing finger at him.

Finland started to sob, hiding his face in his hands. Something seemed to click within Sweden. His face softened, and soon he was crying too.

"Oh Finny, m'wife. Can you forgive me?" He sobbed. Finland looked up. He knew this person. He ran up to him and hugged him tightly.

"Never leave me again."

"Never." Sweden promised, and hugged him back.

Norway felt an immense relief. Denmark just needed some sleep, and Sweden seemed back to normal. And besides, it was a pretty cute scene. He sighed. He kind of wished he could have more of those kinds of moments with Denmark.

As he was looking at the two having their emotional moment he noticed something glimmering up Sweden's sleeve. The man opened his eyes and gave Norway a twisted smile. Suddenly he knew what that glimmering object was.

"Finland, get away from him!" He shouted and lunged for his arm.

Too late.

* * *

Sweden let the knife slip down his sleeve so he could grab it. With one swift movement he stabbed Finland in the back. Finland let go of Sweden's waist and fell down onto the floor with a dull thud. He only realised what had happened a few seconds later when he suddenly felt a searing pain in his back. It hurt more than anything else he had experienced. Sure, he had been beaten up by Russia a few times, but it hurt so much more when that stab came from somebody he had trusted.

"Su-san…" He wheezed. He was acutely aware of Norway at his side. He was saying something, but he couldn't focus on the words from all the pain. The knife clattered to the floor right in front of his eyes, slick with his own blood and Denmark's. Tears dropped down onto the floor, mingling grotesquely with the slowly increasing pool of blood that surrounded him. He let out a final groan as he lost consciousness.

"Finny! Finny wake up. Don't leave me alone with this bastard. Hang on; we'll patch you up in no time, right Iceland?" His voice was panicked. If Sweden would so readily stab his wife in the back, then who knows what he'd do to him? Finland had been his last hope to get the real Sweden back. And that last hope would now be unconscious for at least a day. Iceland was standing a few steps away, looking mortified at the now completely limp body of his best friend. His eyes were wide and his breathing was fast and heavy.

"Iceland, carry him to his room and bandage him up, or the blood loss might keep him unconscious for a few more days. I'll keep this maniac away from you, just look after them both." Norway ordered, struggling to keep calm.

Iceland merely nodded, and with a wary eye on the now insanely giggling man hurriedly went to scoop up Finland, carrying him bridal style to his room. He didn't care that his clothes were being soaked through with the blood pulsing from the wound, only that Finland was in a bad state and he needed to hurry.

Norway turned back to Sweden.

"You monster."


	2. Chapter 2

They both stared at the pool of blood thoughtfully, displaying no kind of emotion at all.

"I can't believe he fell for that." Sweden finally said, sounding vaguely wistful.

"I can't believe you did that."

The room fell into silence as they continued to stare at it. Norway couldn't be sure if _that person_ was actually feeling bad or if he was just pretending in order to lure him in. Either way, he wasn't going to risk it and end up like poor Finny. Then he heard that creepy, maniacal laugh and was glad he hadn't done anything.

"Did you see his face though? He thought he could trust me, the poor bastard!" Sweden chuckled. Norway was just about to retort when he was cut off. "Anyway, I'll be going to my room. I'm bored with you. You're neither depressed nor gullible. That's no fun, is it?" Without waiting for a response he turned around towards the rooms, holding a nonchalant hand in the air. "Later, sucker."

And then he was gone.

* * *

Norway was stumped on what he had to do. He knew he had to get rid of the new Sweden, that was for sure. But how? He was cunning, and not to mention physically stronger than him. He decided to go to Iceland's room and check up on him, just to make sure he wasn't being attacked or something.

He managed to get through the hallway before he felt something strange. It was like he was being pulled backwards. He tried to resist, but it was as if he was a fish on the end of a line, slowly being reeled in by an unseen hand. Eventually he stopped struggling and let himself get pulled along, taking one awkward step at a time through the kitchen towards the lounge. When he was only a few metres away from his destination the mysterious force pulled as hard as was possible, yanking him into the doorway and making him land on the carpet with a thud. He looked up. He was in the lounge. Crouching down by the fireplace was a man holding a box of matches. He lit match after match and held it by the perfectly chopped wood (Sweden's handiwork) in what could only be a hope that the logs would catch on fire. Of course they didn't. Once the match had burned down to his fingers, he threw it over his shoulder into a pile on the floor and started the process again with a new match.

Norway watched this for a while, hypnotised by the preciseness of his work and the blind continuation of the whole thing, even after having failed more than a hundred times. Still lying on the carpet, he finally began to take in the features of the man himself. He wore a red sailor suit, similar to his own, and had a strange device strapped to his back. To his surprise he looked exactly like Norway himself, save for a burn scar running down the right side of his face all the way down to his neck. Norway finally picked up the courage to walk up to him, heaving himself off the carpet with a loud grunt. The man did not look up from his work; it was if he hadn't even heard. Norway tapped him on the shoulder lightly.

"Excuse me, who are you and why are you here?"

Still not breaking from his work, the man replied, "I am your other half."

"That's absurd."

"Did you notice the similarities? Don't we look alike?"

"Well, yeah."

"Exactly."

He continued on in silence. His match supply seemed to never end. After a while Norway became irritated by the stupidity of what he was doing and picked up a bottle of lighter fuel on the mantelpiece.

"Here, let me help you." He sighed and doused the logs thoroughly with the strongly smelling liquid.

The next match instantly set the logs aflame. The heat warmed Norway in a way he thought wasn't possible. It was a kind of homely warmth that radiated off the quickly charring logs, despite his standing so close. The stranger stared at the flames, hypnotised by their dance.

Norway felt as if he should say something, but the stranger cut him off.

"Don't you ever want to just burn everything down?" He said, still not looking up from the fire.

"Sometimes." Norway admitted.

"You want to save your brother right?"

"Well, yeah."

"Let me lend you strength." The stranger looked up at him with a piercing gaze. Norway noticed that his eyed were blood-red, just as Sweden's had been.

"What do you mean?" He took a step back. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but he was a little creeped out. How the hell did this guy even get in anyway?

"Take this." His counterpart stood up and unstrapped the strange object from his back, handing it to him with a dreamy little smile. Norway reluctantly took it. The thing felt familiar to him, giving him the feeling that he had wielded it countless times; the wooden handle was as if it was shaped for his hands. Suddenly he realised what it was. A flamethrower. It was a portable one with gas canisters attached to the bottom, to escape the need for a backpack like-thing containing the gas.

"What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Burn him down to the ground. He deserves it." The stranger's eyebrows furrowed as he grinned sadistically at him. Norway took another step back. He felt a sudden urge to burn something. Or someone.

"Thanks."

"It's my pleasure." The man winked at him.

* * *

Norway blinked, and the stranger was gone. The only thing left was the pile of matches on the floor and the fire still burning in the fireplace. Beautiful. He stared wistfully at the flames, as hypnotised as the stranger had been. He wanted to make everything as beautiful as that. With a sudden cry of rage he ran out the door and pulled the trigger on the flamethrower at the first thing he saw. It spat out a steady jet of flames, beautiful flames, at the painting hanging on the wall. Finland had painted it. Norway had always thought it was ugly, and now it was beautiful. He watched the canvas slowly turn to ash, eroding away from the middle outwards. This was fun. It was like a stone had been lifted from his heart. He felt a hundred years younger, and couldn't understand why he hadn't tried this before.

"I'LL BURN IT ALL!" he screamed and frolicked around the house, spraying everything in sight with the fire. He was laughing like crazy, a happy smile on his face.

* * *

As Sweden went into his room he noticed the red coat the stranger from last night had been wearing lying enticingly on his bed. It had a note pinned to it. He picked it up and read out loud. "Wear it, it could help you. Love from your counterpart." Without thinking he took off his own and tried the new one on. It fitted perfectly. He threw the old one into a heap on the floor. Red was a much nicer colour anyway. Suddenly he could hear Norway's crazy laughter from the kitchen. A grin spread across his face. Finally something fun seemed to be happening. He opened the door and was met by a wall of flames. This was gonna be interesting.

Sweden ran through the flames into the kitchen. He was met by a completely mad Norway.

"Hello there!" He cried, waving happily at him. Norway stopped spraying the fire everywhere and slowly turned to face him. "You know the gas is gonna run out if you're this liberal with that thing." He commented helpfully. A change seemed to come over Norway. His happy smile rapidly twisted into a frown and he jumped at Sweden, pulling the trigger and spraying the fire all over him. Sweden covered his face. Somehow he didn't feel like he was burning. He looked down quickly and noticed that his coat wasn't burning at all. It was fireproof. With one hand still in front of his face he laughed and lunged for Norway, who was still blasting him with a steady stream of fire. He caught him by the arm and tilted the flamethrower upwards, redirecting the flames towards Norway's face.

He couldn't let go of it, Sweden's hand has gripping his too tightly. His face was burning. Norway couldn't figure out if he liked it or not. The pain felt good in a way, but at the same time he wanted it to stop. They were both laughing madly, both had gone completely insane.

After a while the fire spluttered with a pathetic sound and the flames stopped licking at Norway's face. The gas had run out. Sweden let go of his hand, and the flamethrower clattered to the floor. Now that he couldn't see the beautiful flames, the pain intensified. Norway ran to the sink and stuck his whole head under the tap, not caring that his hair and clothes were getting wet. Sweden watched from afar, chuckling quietly to himself. After a few minutes of cooling his face, Norway emerged, completely drenched. A scar was already forming on the right side of his face, red and grotesque.

* * *

Denmark woke to the sound of chaos. The sound of muffled maniacal laughing could be heard from outside the room. He sat up and looked around. Iceland was sitting next to him, covering his ears with his eyes screwed up tightly.

"Hey. Iceland."

Iceland looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes.

"What's up?" Denmark asked, sounding worried. He vaguely remembered what had happened and felt his face. There were plasters covering the wound.

Iceland pointed to something next to him. It was Finland, lying in bed completely knocked out.

"What happened?" He asked again, suddenly feeling nervous.

"Sweden stabbed him. In the back." Iceland looked close to tears.

Denmark looked at Finland, who was blissfully unaware of the madness going on. Sweden would never stab Finland, much less in the back. He got out of bed and gave Iceland a quick, reassuring hug.

"It'll be fine. You know he can't die." He mumbled. That was strange; he couldn't raise his voice at all. He tried to flash Iceland a smile, but found it virtually impossible. The end result looked awkward and out of place, so he stopped. He felt depressed. Really depressed.

"I'll try to talk to him." He said and went to open the door.

"Wait!"

"Hm?"

"You might end up like last time! He stabbed his wife for God's sake!" Iceland cried. He didn't want anything to happen to Denmark as well.

Denmark reached into his coat pocket. The box of cigarettes and his lighter were still there. He heaved a sigh of relief and lit one of them. He sucked in the smoke gratefully and puffed out a large cloud into the room, making Iceland cough.

"I'm still going." Denmark grunted, the cigarette still in his mouth. He unlocked the door and pulled down the handle. He was met by a wall of heat, pushing against him as if it was a solid object. What the hell happened here?

* * *

Denmark closed the door behind him and crept into the kitchen. Everything was smouldering as if it had recently been on fire. He saw Sweden throwing buckets of water at some patches that were still burning. Norway was sitting at the half-burned table holding an ice-pack to his face.

"What happened here?" Denmark asked with a concerned look on his face.

"Oh, nothing. Just Norway deciding to burn the whole place down." Sweden answered without turning around. "Welcome back, depressed one." He continued after throwing the water at a wooden chair that was on fire.

"What happened to you Norway?" Denmark asked, staring at Norway. His clothes were badly singed.

"This maniac sprayed my face with a flamethrower." He grumbled, waving his hand backwards vaguely where he thought Sweden was.

"Only after you tried to kill me, you fucking bastard!" Sweden cried emotionally and filled the bucket up again.

"Where did you get a flamethrower from?" Denmark asked, steadily getting more and more worried.

"I'd like to know that too actually. I can't remember us having one." Sweden remarked.

"Oh, some random guy gave it to me earlier. He looked strangely like me. It was weird." Norway replied vaguely.

"Didn't your mother tell you not to accept weapons from random strangers?" Sweden joked. Both he and Norway started laughing.

"This isn't the time for jokes. Why did he give you the flamethrower?" Denmark pressed on.

"He said something about burning…" Norway blinked. "Someone down."

Denmark sat down on the table and crushed his cigarette against it, leaving a small black mark. He fished a new one out of the box and lit it.

"Hey Den. Pass me the lighter." Norway was staring blankly into the wall.

"Sure." Denmark threw it over to him. Norway snatched it eagerly and walked off somewhere.

"What happened to him?" Denmark asked Sweden.

"I dunno." Sweden turned to look at him for the first time. "But he's gonna try something, I bet. And it's gonna be good." He gave Denmark a grin. "Brace yourself."

Norway emerged a few minutes later looking pretty much the same. He was still pressing the icepack to his face. Both Sweden and Denmark were waiting, looking expectantly at him. He was holding something behind his back.

"Say, Norway. What'cha got behind that back of yours?" Sweden chuckled.

"Nothing." Norway smiled at him with a dreamy look in his eyes. Denmark didn't like the look of this. He blew out a cloud of smoke in Sweden's direction, hoping for it to be some kind of warning,

Norway walked up to Sweden, who was leaning arrogantly against the wall, completely ignoring the smoke curling around his face. Suddenly Norway's arm jerked forwards, spraying Sweden with some form of liquid. It soaked his jacket and parts of his face. Sweden recognised the putrid smell of chemicals and realised what it was.

Too late.

* * *

He dived to the side, but Norway lit the lighter and lunged for him.

The flame touched his jacket, and suddenly Sweden seemed to explode, the flames travelling across his body in the fraction of a second. Norway quickly jumped back to avoid them. Sweden screamed as the heat threatened to consume him. The pain was too much. Sweden staggered over to the sink to relieve his pain, but was stopped by a laughing Norway.

"Oh no you don't!" He cried and kicked him back. Sweden fell over backwards, rolling on the floor in a futile attempt at putting out the flames, all while Norway stood over him laughing with an insanely happy look on his face. Denmark stared in horror at the scene. He let Sweden burn for a few more seconds, relishing the screams as revenge for both him and Finland. Then he stood up and snatched the bucket Sweden had been using earlier. He pushed Norway out of the way and started filling it up by the tap. But Norway tried to pull him backwards, away from the sink.

"What are you doing, idiot?" Denmark growled through gritted teeth as he tried to keep the bucket steady.

"No, let the bastard burn!"

"STOP IT! GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!" Sweden screamed and continued to roll around, but the lighter fluid was too strong, even for a fireproof coat. The fire had already consumed most of the coat and was spreading up the sleeves and the neckline, starting to set his skin and hair on fire. The smell of burning flesh filled the room as if it was an organism on its own. Sweden managed to get himself to grab Norway's ankle, setting his trouser leg alight. The fire started to spread up his leg and reducing the blue material to a charred stump, but Norway didn't care. All he wanted was to stop Denmark from saving Sweden and let those beautiful flames keep on burning. Sweden had always had an especially ugly face.

After what seemed like an eternity the bucket was full. Denmark took the handle with both hands and lifted the bucket with much effort. Water sloshed out the sides as it swayed precariously. Sweden looked up at it with reverence in his eyes; his saving hope was right above him. He had managed to distract Norway for a few seconds, who was currently batting at the flames rapidly consuming his trouser leg with one hand and tugging at Denmark with the other. But just as Denmark was about to pour it, Norway noticed and sharply stopped his pulling. Denmark, who had been pulling with all his might in the opposite direction, fell over forwards at the sudden change. Sweden uttered a piercing scream upon realising what was happening. Norway just laughed even harder.

Time seemed to go in slow motion.

* * *

The water scattered in a wide arc forwards, catching the sunlight from the open window, making it glitter like a thousand small diamonds. Then it fell downwards sharply and wet the floorboards considerably. Every single drop missed its mark. Denmark landed on top of Sweden. From here the smell of burning flesh was even stronger. Denmark wrinkled his nose at it and jumped off as quickly as he could to avoid catching alight himself. Acting quickly he grabbed Sweden's hand and dragged him off to the door that led to the garden. Denmark could feel him fighting against him, kicking backwards, back to the sink, oh blessed sink.

"Stop fighting me. I'm trying to help here!" Denmark growled with a low voice. He was casting worried looks at Norway, who was walking slowly behind them with a mocking leer on his scarred face, his trouser leg still burning. He had abandoned the ice-pack long ago just to reveal the scar to Denmark. Denmark couldn't quite get over it; how Norway's pretty face had been violated in such a manner. He kind of resented Sweden for that. But nevertheless he couldn't watch him burn in agony while _that thing_ that was Norway just laughed. He felt Sweden stop struggling, but he was still screaming hysterically and writhing a bit from the pain.

Denmark kicked the door open and with one last effort pulled the burning man into the snow. It had recently been snowing a light, powdery snowfall, and consequently Sweden fell through roughly 20 centimetres of snow before stopping. The sudden temperature change made him utter a final piercing scream, but soon it started to soothe him, and the pain numbed. Steam rose off him in a hissing sound as the flames were snuffed out. It was a cold morning, usually the -20 or so degrees Celsius would have been unbearable with the small amount of clothing the flames had spared, but right now it gave him instant relief. It was like being hugged by an ice pack. Sweden looked up at the melancholy light grey sky, thankfully letting the falling snowflakes cover his face. They were cool to the touch, but melted instantly from the heat that was still stubbornly coming off him. God that felt good. It was times like this that he was grateful for living in a cold country. He emitted a groan of pain as he slowly and painfully moved his head towards Denmark.

"I never thought I would say this. But thanks, you bastard." He uttered weakly, his voice sore from the screaming. And he thought he had a pretty good pain threshold. Apparently being burned alive is worse than having your stomach cut open (All Denmark's fault. True story.). He looked once more at the pale grey sky and let out a final sigh as he fainted.

* * *

Denmark scooped Sweden up and set off to the bedrooms so he could rest in relative peace. Norway was standing in the doorway, blocking the entrance.

"Move out of the way." Denmark's voice was lower than usual and sounded choked. He was more than a little disturbed at the scene he had just witnessed, and it quite clearly showed off in his voice.

"I won't stop you." Norway smiled apologetically and stepped aside. "Just one thing. Why did you save him? You saw what he did to you, not to mention Finland."

Denmark stepped cautiously inside. "I couldn't see him suffer like that. That was wholly unnecessary Norway. You crossed the boundary of acceptable there." He sighed and gave him a sad shake of the head. "Don't ever do that again." He sounded so disappointed, it made Norway feel like an ashamed child. Of course he would never admit it. Then Denmark passed him by, letting a flurry of snow enter the house with his billowing cape. The neat freak within Norway resurfaced desperately, but was quickly pushed down by the pyromaniac. 'Stay down. It's my time in the spotlight for once, asshole.' He told himself.

* * *

Sweden emitted a slight groan of pain in his sleep as Denmark placed him gently upon the extra bed Iceland had dragged into the large room. The small boy stared with wide eyed at the man on the bed burned beyond relief. His clothes were badly singed, he was wearing little more than some smouldering rags, and small burn scars littered his skin. Sweden had always been so strong in Iceland's eyes. Seeing him like this was heart-wrenching. He knew how deep Sweden's pride ran.

"It's okay. Everything will be fine." Denmark tried to say comfortingly, but only succeeded in showing the tender country that he himself wasn't all too sure.

* * *

"Wake up."

Finland opened his eyes. He was in his room. Denmark and Iceland were sitting back to back on their chairs, watching him and whatever was on the other side of the room. Sweden had made those chairs. His memories came back to him with a pang of distress. Oh yes, that. He had been stabbed by the one he had loved most. For some strange reason it didn't hurt at all. His back felt normal. Finland gritted his teeth and sat up. Iceland was looking at him with a sad expression.

"Iceland? What's happening?" He asked, feeling beads of sweat roll down the back of his neck.

Iceland showed no signs of having registered the fact that Finland had spoken.

"Iceland? Iceland? Speak to me Iceland!" Finland shook Iceland's shoulder. To his surprise his hand went right through him. Iceland was looking right where Finland's head had been. As if he couldn't even see him.

"It's no use. They can't see you." A bitter voice said.

Finland swung his head around to where the voice had come from, at the foot of his bed. It was like looking at his own reflection. It was Finland, but then again it wasn't. The stranger didn't exactly look like the happy go lucky type. In fact, he was scowling. His clothes were also similar to his, but they were dyed a blood red accentuated with a few black accessories here and there. His bright red eyes had bags under them that were so prominent it looked like they had been drawn on with eyeliner or something.

"Who are you?" Finland was sweating more than ever now. He could feel small streams run down the back of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine.

"Who the fuck do you think I am?!" The stranger cried sarcastically, raising his hands in the air in an exasperated fashion. Without waiting for an answer to his question he continued speaking. "I'm you goddammit, didn't you see the freaking similarities?!"

"We-well…" Finland stammered timidly.

"God, I can't stand people like you! Always so fucking timid." His reflection spat.

Finland was shocked. He didn't really know what to say to something like that. "Hey-"

"Tch. Anyway. I didn't take all the effort of coming over here to slander you." The stranger cut him off. "Do you remember what he did to you?" He crept onto the bed and like a cat slowly moved towards his prey. His alluring eyes didn't let go of Finland for an instant.

"Who?" Finland gulped.

"Your husband of course."

"He's not my-" Finland blushed.

"Oh sure he isn't." The man chuckled. "Anyway. You know what he did to you."

"He was acting strangely. He'd never usually do that."

"What if I told you that maybe he would. You know how he's like. He tries to hide it, but he's got a turbulent nature. And that's just him. What about the rest of the bastards!" The man rolled his eyes and spat on the floor. "They all think you're annoying, a burden. Let me put this simply so that your small mind can comprehend this; you're an outcast. Nobody likes you."

"That's not true! We're like a family!" Finland's squeaky voice rose two octaves.

"Oh god, please don't tell me you haven't noticed. You weren't there in the Viking days, right?"

"Well, yea-"

"Exactly! The three of them go way back. You don't. No matter how hard you try to convince yourself that you're part of the Nordic clique, you know deep down that you'll never be accepted!"

Finland's jaw dropped in shock. "That's not true." He muttered to himself. He didn't sound too sure of himself. He did often feel like he was put down just a little. That's why he could always relate to Iceland the best.

"You pretend to be weak so you can be protected by the others, when really you could take all those bastards by yourself. That's why you always cling to Sweden like some kind of annoying girlfriend. But he's polite, so he's just shouldered it all this while. Poor bastard. I reckon this morning everything just exploded within him. I daresay you deserved it. You know, you should stand up for yourself. Don't let your family push you around. If you pretend to be nothing, then you are nothing!"

Finland backed against the wall as the strange man continued to advance. His head hit the wall, making him gulp, but the stranger only continued his rant, by now crouching right in front of him.

"Nothing, White, nothing! Don't convince yourself any differently. Because of this they think you're weak. You dug your own fucking grave, White! Can't you see that? If only you asserted yourself more, you would be treated better. That's still no excuse though. They've ignored you anyway. They should pay for all those years of being the one in the background! Being nice will get you nowhere. "

His counterpart's face was twisted into a murderous glare. He had grabbed Finland's shirt collar, and was now lifting him off the bed aggressively. Finland's eyes started misting up.

"It's not true. I'm not weak. I'll show them my power…" Finland's eyes transformed into the same bright red as his counterpart's, his anger instantly evaporating the tears. "I'LL SHOW THE BASTARDS!"

His counterpart got off the bed and leaned nonchalantly against Iceland's chair. The boy had been watching the whole thing without seeing, a blank expression on his face.

"I believe that my work here is done!" He chuckled.

Finland blinked and the stranger was gone.

* * *

He opened his eyes again. This time he was back into his original position, lying on his back in his bed. His back hurt like crazy. He sat up sharply and instantly remembered everything that had happened. He couldn't help but scowl.

Denmark was snoozing lightly in his chair, snoring heavily as he usually did when stressed.

"Oh my god, Denmark wake up!" Iceland cried suddenly.

Denmark snorted mid-snore and jerked his head up.

"Wh-wha-what's happening!" He said groggily.

"Finland's awake!"

"What?!" He was fully awake now. Denmark stood up sharply, abandoning his post to look at Finland.

"Finland, are you okay?" He asked, cautiously moving forwards. He still couldn't completely trust everyone after what he had witnessed.

"Do you think I'm okay after being fucking stabbed?!" Finland snapped, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Denmark blinked, stunned. This was not the normal Finland.

"Uh-" He stammered, not too sure on what to say.

"Exactly! Jeez, some people just don't know how to think." Finland snarled. He hoisted himself out of bed, wincing as his back sent waves of pain washing over him. He staggered over to the other bed, where Sweden was lying limply. God he looked pathetic. Finland wasn't afraid to say so either.

"God, he looks pathetic. A truly pathetic end for a pathetic man." He spat, and ran a hand over Sweden's burned face. He stirred in his sleep, moving his head slightly to the side in an unconscious effort to get his hand off.

"Tch. See how he mocks me even now! Motherfucker." Finland left him alone to shuffle through his own wardrobe.

"Hey, Finland. Where's all this vitriol coming from?"

"Oh, poor little Denmark, trying to sound all clever by using big, complicated words. You may have that gullible little shit over there fooled, but we clever people know you're really just stupid as fuck." Finland retorted.

"You didn't answer my question." Denmark's hands curled into fists.

"And what does that have to do with you?" Finland dug out a black t-shirt with the word 'AMORPHIS' blazoned all over it. It was one of his favourite heavy metal bands from his country. He put it on, throwing the top of his light blue military uniform, now stained with blood, carelessly on the floor. He found a pair of black jeans and put them on too.

"I need to find some red dye. Do you know where I can find any?" He asked, sounding normal for a second. The bile in his voice was gone.

Denmark sighed thankfully. "There should be some in the bathroom." He muttered, still unable to raise his voice no matter how hard he tried.

"Thanks, loser." Finland picked up his military uniform and made for the door.

" are you going to do with that?" Denmark asked earnestly.

Finland stopped abruptly. "So that's how it is? You don't trust me, do you? Why can't you bastards let me do what I want in peace, without your smug patronizing mugs over my shoulder all the time huh?!" He shouted. The other two suddenly noticed his bright scarlet eyes and realised what had happened.

"Motherfuckers." Finland flipped his middle finger at them as he went out, slamming the door behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

Denmark looked at Iceland. They were both confused.

"What the hell?" Iceland finally said, after a minute of unsuccessfully trying to read each other.

"We should probably follow him." Denmark conceded.

"Yeah." Iceland nodded dejectedly, trying desperately to swallow his panic. It would not do to lose it in front of Denmark. Not right now.

"You stay here though. Watch Sweden. If he attacks you, run. Find me." Denmark ordered, speaking in short, choppy sentences. Much like Sweden usually did.

"Why do I have to? You always get to go after them." Iceland whined.

Denmark gave him a pleading look. His eyes were tired and full of sorrow. It struck Iceland suddenly how rugged he looked. He decided to comply for now.

"Fine. Are you sure you're okay?"

Denmark froze for a split second, then turned around to grab his axe. "Yes." He said after a while, not daring to look Iceland in the eyes. He was obviously lying. Truth be told, if it was only him in the house, he would have broken down crying long ago. Deep down he was a sensitive soul, and this predicament was really stressing him out. He just wanted for everything to be over, for the others to get back to normal so he could finally get some well-deserved sleep. But of course he couldn't do that. Even though he technically didn't own Iceland anymore, he still felt a duty to protect him from all this madness. He would rather have been stabbed himself than let the poor boy see his brother setting a human being on fire and _actually liking it_. Traumatizing. He would probably be traumatized for a long time, he thought miserably to himself, lighting himself a cigarette. The nicotine instantly gave him a surge of energy as he sucked the smoke in gratefully.

"Stay safe." He muttered through the door, giving Iceland one last desperate look before closing the door behind him. He stood outside for a while, listening to the sounds in the house. It was eerily silent. Finally he heard the lock click behind him and he trudged towards the bathroom.

* * *

The bathroom door was closed, but not locked. Denmark put his hand on the handle and tried to listen in. He could faintly hear some splashing sounds and then muffled singing. The voice was deep, not one he recognised. It was screeching some kind of dark heavy metal lyrics. Probably Finland. He pushed down the handle. The singing stopped. He opened the door.

"What the fuck man?!" Finland shouted abusively at Denmark. He was kneeling down in front of the bathtub, dipping his military clothes into it. They were stained a blood red, dripping the watery liquid dye back into the bathtub.

"What are you doing?"

"What do you think I'm doing, you idiot?" Finland sneered sarcastically.

"Err-"

"That's right, idiot. I'm dying my clothes. White has such bad taste." He cut Denmark off.

"Who's White?" Denmark asked, taking a step forward. He had a suspicion of what he meant though.

Finland stopped, holding the clothes in mid-air. "Oh, nobody." He had realised his mistake and was trying to amend it. "Never mind that, asshole. I don't understand why you're trying to stalk me." He let go of what he was holding sharply and the garment dropped into the bathtub splashing drops of pure red everywhere. They splattered Finland's band t-shirt, making it momentarily look like he had just murdered somebody. But then the dye sunk in properly, and was masked by the black material.

"I'm worried about you. We all are." Denmark put a friendly hand on his shoulder and puffed a cloud of smoke into Finland's face.

Finland waved a hand in front of his face, gritting his teeth to stop himself from pouncing on the man who had the _nerve_ to do something like that. No, his revenge would come a bit later.

"What, you mean you and that kid? Everyone else has already evolved." He spat. Then he blinked. "Hey, hang on. You've also transformed, just indirectly. The old you was more emotional, more cheerful, and he definitely didn't smoke." Finland laughed and wrung out his newly dyed clothes. He then put the bath tap on and rinsed them with cold water. "Yup. I like the new you better. I fucking hate optimists. Annoying as hell."

Denmark took several steps back. He had a pure expression of horror on his face. "What do you mean I've changed?!"

"Really?" Finland stood up and hung his garments to dry on the towel rack. He turned to face Denmark, forcing him slowly out of the bathroom as he advanced with a cruel smile. The dye dripped from his hands, looking eerily like blood. "Don't tell me you haven't noticed.

Denmark gulped and hefted his axe in front of him defensively. "Don't come closer." He squeaked. Shit. Shit. Not good. Having a fight with Finland was never a good idea, especially not now. He had a feeling that he was going to end up like Sweden, unconscious and scarred. It was the least thing Iceland needed right now. 'I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die.' His mind repeated, forcing him into a panic.

"You're depressed. You're smoking. You're panicked." Finland continued moving towards him. Denmark shook his axe blindly in a futile attempt at scaring him away. The cigarette dropped from his mouth, falling limply to the ground and fizzling out.

Finland continued, his beguiling voice steadily getting crueller. "You're stressed out. You self-harmed. You don't know what to do. You're not smiling. More like you can't. You can't raise your voice, I mean, you're practically speaking in a whisper. But most importantly-" Finland took a hand and moved the axe to the side. Denmark's hands were shaking and were so limp that he dropped it. The axe clattered to the floor. He was defenceless.

"-you're scared." Finland drew a dripping finger down Denmark's face, leaving behind a long line of the dye, looking like he had been cut. The cold sensation sent shivers down his spine. Denmark tried to move, tried to run away, but found that he couldn't. Those scarlet eyes rooted him to the spot in fear. He could take him. He was armed, or at least used to be before he dropped the fucking axe. But something told him not to fight. Was it instinct? Or something else?

Suddenly something within him snapped and he managed to turn and run back into the bedroom where Iceland was, like a dog with his tail between his legs. Finland's maniacal laughing followed him like a being of its own, enveloping him like a blanket of malice. It was only a short distance to the bedroom, but it felt like miles. He knocked repeatedly on the door and with a panicked voice shouted," Iceland, for heaven's sake open the fucking door!"

There was a hesitation. Denmark could feel it from the other side. He continued knocking, louder this time. "Open up!" He was close to tears. He daren't look behind him, in case Finland was right there, ready to give him a jump-scare and stab him or something. Finally the door opened, and Denmark tumbled in, but he quickly got up on his feet and locked the door firmly. He leaned against it with all his weight, panting heavily. He could hear the muffled laughing just outside, but it slowly got further and further away until it fizzled away like his cigarette. Finally Denmark could calm down, which he did, breathing slowly becoming steadier as he slid down into a heap on the floor.

* * *

"Den, what happened?" Iceland tried not to look shaken at Denmark's sudden panicked appearance.

Springing into his arms, Denmark hugged Iceland so tightly he almost choked him to death. Just when it seemed like he would never let go, Denmark's arms dropped to his sides.

"Promise me you won't go out there until I tell you so." He panted.

"What happened?"

"Trust me, you don't want to go out there, no matter how tempting it may seem."

"Fine. But what happened?" Iceland persisted.

"Finland. He…he's gone insane. Utterly mad. He's dying his clothes red, goodness knows why. He was talking about some guy called White…" Denmark flopped down onto the bed Finland had previously been sleeping in.

"Oh god, you're hurt!" Iceland exclaimed, running over to him.

"Huh?" Denmark sat bolt upright. "Where?"

"On the other side of your face!" Iceland exclaimed.

"Wha-" Denmark stopped. "Oh, this?" He licked his index finger and rubbed the red mark. "This is just the dye.

"Why do you have dye on your face?"

"He touched me with his dye-stained fingers." Denmark mumbled. Just thinking about it was enough to give him shudders down his spine. Those cold hands. Unnaturally cold hands. He laid himself back down again and closed his eyes. He was trying desperately not to think about it. Why had he been so scared?

'God, I need a fag.' He thought grimly to himself, but resisted the urge after hearing Finland's words replayed in his mind.

 _"The old you was more emotional, more cheerful, and he definitely didn't smoke."_

"Iceland. I need to sleep. Stay here. Don't unlock the door for anyone. Wake me if Sweden does anything." He announced, and before he could hear Iceland's response, he fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

Finland walked into the kitchen, still laughing. The expression on Denmark's face had been priceless, just priceless! He looked over at the kitchen table and stopped abruptly. Norway was sitting there with his head on the table. He looked like he was sleeping, but Finland knew better.

"So, how did it go?" Norway said, his head not moving an inch.

"I scared Denmark good and proper. I doubt he'll be coming out for a while."

"Tch, serves the bastard right. He got in my way before." Norway snorted.

"Hm. What are you doing?"

"Thinking."

"You know, you're really productive today." Finland said sarcastically.

"Fuck you."

Finland chuckled. "Indeed. Anyway, I'm going to get my rifle from the store room. I need to release some anger. Maybe go hunting or something." He grabbed Norway by the hair making him wince, and lifted his head up, shoving a grin right into his face. "Do you want to come?"

"Sure. It's not like I have anything better to do." Norway sighed.

Finland pushed Norway's face forcefully back into the table again. Norway cried out, his burn scar was still hurting loads.

"Really, you thought I would let you go with me? Well think again, bitch!" He yelled right into his ear and yanked his hair with all his might, pulling out a clump of the stuff with the skin still attached. Norway screamed as blood started to pool on his head and drip down his back. It stained the bottom of his sailor's hat bright red, partly mirroring his counterpart's.

"The hell?!" Norway started to tear up, and he moved his hand to the sore spot to cover it. Norway retched a little as Finland dropped the hair clump on the table in front of him.

"You deserved that. Next time don't burn the fucking house down." Finland said simply as he left.

"Asshole." Norway muttered once he had gone, trying his hardest not to cry. He lifted up his leg and tore off a piece of his already half burnt trouser leg. Wrapping it around his hand, he tentatively brought it up to his throbbing head and winced as he pressed it against the wound. After a minute or so he took it off to look at the damage. Not too much blood. That was good, but it still hurt like a bitch. The searing pain layered on top of all the other pains he had suffered that day until it started to die down and he felt himself crying.

Shit.

* * *

Finland rummaged through the storage room, trying to find his sniper rifle among the boxes of stuff thrown lazily all around the place. He knew where White's was, but he thought it was stupid. Sure, it fired, but he needed something bigger and more powerful right now. And cooler. Much cooler.

Finally he found something that would fit his needs. It was a little old and dusty, but it looked fine. He ran his fingers lovingly over the wooden handle. It was beautiful, unused since his wars with Russia. Ah, those were the days. He couldn't understand why White had abandoned this thing to the object devouring monster that was the storage room. It probably brought too many memories to his pathetic opposite self. He spat on one of the boxed labelled 'Finland' at the thought, watching the spittle slide down the cardboard.

He searched a little more, finding a scope and a few cleaning supplies. Finland set to cleaning his gun, sitting on a random box in near pitch darkness. Just him and his beloved gun. When he was done he clutched to his chest and snuggled up to it as if it was a person.

"Ah, I've missed you." He sighed dreamily. "Now let's shoot something, just you and me." A sadistic smile crept up his face, filling it from ear to ear. While it was creepy, he did look truly happy. "I say we start with Norway." He said.

"Yes, that would be a very good idea." He changed his voice, making an octave lower to mimic how he imagined his gun would sound like if it was a person.

"Then what?" He asked it.

"Then we go for him. The guy who stabbed you. He needs to pay." The gun responded seriously.

"Excellent idea! You're so smart, Kivääri." He praised lovingly. "We'll start with the arms and legs, immobilising him. Then when he's almost out, we'll put you to his head and watch his expression as he gets shot!" Finland jumped up in glee, waving his sniper rifle, which he had lovingly named Kivääri after the Finnish word for rifle.

* * *

Sweden felt like he was being watched. It wasn't an especially nice feeling. He stifled a groan as he suddenly felt the pain all over him. Crap. What had happened again? Oh yeah, that. First there was blood, then there was fire, and then there was Denmark.

Denmark. What had happened to him? Sweden sure as hell hoped he was okay. No, he knew that Denmark was okay. He always was.

His memories were all fuzzy, but he could vaguely remember being carried off here by the Dane. He blushed at the thought. And then…Then what? He had fallen asleep, or unconscious rather, but something else must have happened. What about Norway?

His eyes fluttered open and he instantly saw who had been watching him. A blurry Iceland sat by him.

"Hm. Iceland?" He beckoned for Iceland to come closer. But he was having none of that. Iceland stood up, picked up his chair and moved it backwards.

"Wait. What happened after I passed out?"

"I'm not talking to you. I've seen what you can do." Iceland sounded terrified.

Sweden slowly sat up to avoid as much pain as was possible. It still hurt a little though. He grimaced at it, but said nothing. He fumbled for his glasses in an attempt at fixing his blurry vision.

Meanwhile Iceland was in a hurry to wake Denmark up. "Denmark! He's up!"

Of course he wasn't waking up. The poor thing was sleep deprived and stressed out on top of that. Sweden had found his glasses and was watching this with a confused expression. Iceland was shaking his shoulder faster now, and with an air of desperation Sweden hardly ever saw. Finally he resorted to slapping Denmark's face as hard as was possible.

"Ow-"

"Denmark!"

"What the hell!" Denmark groaned.

"He's up."

"What?!" He sat up immediately and stared at Sweden who was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"What's happening? Did anything happen?" Sweden asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

"You passed out." Denmark said suspiciously.

"Of course I did." Sweden ruffled his blonde hair, quite clearly annoyed. "But what happened next? Iceland isn't speaking to me."

"I told him not to. And why are you up? What are you going to do now?" Denmark scowled suspiciously at him.

"What do you mean? That's obvious right? I can't explain why I woke up."

"What are you going to do to us huh? Pretend to be nice, and then stab us in the back? Torment us? Attack us? Well, I ain't having none of that!" Denmark practically shouted.

"I don't get what you mean. I wake up and you start a verbal assault at me! That's not very nice."

"Well forgive me for not trusting me after everything I've seen today." Denmark spat.

"So why did you carry me here then? You could have left me to Norway in the snow, to either burn or get hypothermia."

"I couldn't leave you to him. That would be too cruel."

"Can you please just tell me what's going on? What's been happening?" Sweden growled. He sounded like his normal self, but Denmark couldn't be too sure. He motioned for Iceland to get behind him as he stood up menacingly.

"Finland went mental. He hates all our guts now."

Sweden's rage evaporated instantly. "Me-mental?" He stammered.

"Yes. Something strange is happening. Can't you see that we're all changing? First you go all psycho on us, then Norway turns into a pyromaniac and Finland is just really sarcastic and unpleasant, dying his clothes blood red and shit!" He shouted, but then his tone changed and became sadder. "I thought that I had been spared, but then Finny, no, _it_ tells me that I've also changed. I'm not cheerful anymore. I'm a pessimist for fuck's sake! And I keep having these urges to smoke. I hate it!" Denmark collapsed down on the bed, tears rolling down his cheeks.

"If only this was all a dream. I bet I'm going to wake up soon in my bed. The doors and cupboards will be closed. You will be in the kitchen with Finny, drinking coffee and chatting idly. Norway and Iceland will be there too. It's Norway's turn to cook and you'll be grimacing at the brunost he's set out and get your own cheese from the fridge." He rambled on, seeing the everyday scene out in front of him as if it was real. All he had to do was reach out and touch it...

Sweden appeared shocked at Denmark's outburst. "Hey-"

"I don't wanna hear it." Denmark sobbed.

"I'd like to think the same thing. Except it's not true. The pain is too vivid. You should have woken up by now." Despite himself, the Swede could feel himself beginning to cry. "I don't know what I've done, what _we've_ done. But I do know that it's not too late to amend it." He slowly walked over to Denmark to give him a hug, feeling the pain burn in his legs. But this wasn't too bad. His emotions were drowning out all the physical pain, letting him come over to the Dane one step at a time.

"Hah! I'm not planning to fall for that one!" Denmark suddenly cried, and just as Sweden was about to reach him, he kicked with all his might into Sweden's gut. The bulky man fell over backwards and gave a sharp cry of pain as his head only just missed the bedframe. He clutched his already aching gut and gave Denmark an expression of true pain, hurt and sadness that filled his gleaming blue eyes.

"Y-your eyes…" Denmark stammered.

"What about them?" Sweden gasped, trying to steady his breathing after the fall.

"They're normal." Denmark stood up again. "Are you normal?"

"I honestly don't know." Sweden carefully picked himself up, but fell limply down again. He hadn't properly rested after all. It was a miracle he was even up this soon. His vision blurred as he felt himself start to drift off once again. But his vision cleared immediately after noticing a hand stretched helpfully out to him.

"Sorry." Denmark apologised meekly. Every instinct in his body was screaming for him to stop before he was hurt, but he couldn't. He would try trusting him.

"Ugh. It's fine." He took the hand and let himself be pulled up by it. They locked each other into an embrace.

"God, I've missed you." Denmark choked. "Don't ever do that to me again."

"Sorry." Sweden said simply and gripped him tighter.

They stayed like that for a while, both so scarred and confused that they didn't dare let go of each other. As you can imagine, this was quite awkward for Iceland, who was just standing there watching their tender moment. At first he was nervous, but then he relaxed after a while. Sweden could have attacked him several times. The both of them were sobbing uncontrollably.

"Best bros?" Denmark managed to say in between his sobbing and gave him a light kiss on the cheek.

"Mhm." Sweden smiled, but this was a true smile.

* * *

Norway was lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood. Fuck that bastard Finland! He had shot him in both arms after a short-lived fistfight, and it was hurting like hell. He slowly felt himself nodding off to the sound of his crazy laughter. He could discern Finland's shape in front of him, framed by the unbearable light coming from the hallway, casually sauntering away to his next victim. Norway just wasn't satisfying enough for him. He wanted to shoot a certain somebody, and that fast.

The Norwegian's eyes flashed back to their usual violet colour for a second. "You better stay safe, idiot." He muttered. Then everything went black.

* * *

Finland approached his own bedroom door, where everybody had camped out. Tch, the nerve! He put an ear to the door to eavesdrop, but could only hear sobbing. Meh, it was probably just Iceland having a mental breakdown. Who could blame him? Finland stifled a snigger and stroked his rifle one last time before fishing something out of his pocket. It was a key. Luckily he always kept one on him, just in case. He stuck it into the lock and turned it as silently as was possible. He needn't have worried. None of the people inside were concentrating on the sounds coming from the other side.

The door swung open suddenly. Everyone froze as Finland stepped into the room. The man with the gun blinked. He definitely wasn't expecting this. Denmark and Sweden let go of each other, desperately looking around for a weapon. Then it hit Denmark that he had left his axe in front of the bathroom. Shit. Sweden reached for his sword which was usually at his side, but found it gone. Of course this had to happen now.

"Oh, I see a certain _husband_ has been cheating on his beloved wife." Finland spat sarcastically. "I suppose I must teach you a lesson." He lifted the rifle up and took aim before any of them could react.

Shit.

"No!" Denmark cried, but it was too late. A shot resounded and he saw Sweden fall over in the corner of his eye. Finland laughed and stepped on Sweden's stomach violently, making him cough up some blood onto the carpet.

"Bad boy. No spitting blood on the carpet." Finland chuckled and stuck the barrel of his rifle on the man's temple. "Say goodbye, motherfucker."


	4. Chapter 4

This couldn't be happening.

It simply couldn't. Not again.

Denmark took a massive leap at Finland with his arms outstretched in a life-or death version of a rugby tackle. The man with the rifle noticed and swiftly pulled the trigger again, but it was too late. He did it just as he felt a blow to his side, winding him and knocking the gun he had tightly clasped in his hands to the side. The shot missed its mark completely and the bullet was buried in the far corner of the wall. Finland hit the floor with Denmark on top of him, and Denmark tried to quickly wrestle the rifle out of his hands.

"No, Kivääri!" Finland screamed with a mixture of rage and terror in his red eyes. Kivääri was his best friend.

"I'll be taking this!" Denmark gave the thing a yank, but his opponent refused to let go. Finland, having finally regained his composure, put his finger back on the trigger.

"I suggest you get off me." He hissed. "And don't think for a moment that I won't shoot." He gestured over to Sweden with a slight movement of the head, who was lying limply on the floor and trying to look as fine as was possible considering he had been shot in the stomach.

Shit.

If he let go, Sweden would get hurt even more. But if he didn't, he'd be shot, most likely in the head considering Finland's marksman skills, and then Sweden would be shot again anyway. But it was the principle that mattered! Denmark was, and would forever remain a loyal blockhead.

"Never!" He shouted and puffed a cloud of cigarette smoke into Finland's face.

"You have chosen your fate. But don't worry, you won't be alone. At least you'll see Sweden in hell." Finland laughed and took his aim. The finger on the trigger slowly pulled it, as the red eyed maniac relished the moment. Denmark swallowed and waited for the blow as he stared right down the barrel, which Finland had moved upwards with a sudden force of strength. Denmark hadn't been able to move it down towards his chest again.

Shit.

* * *

Things would have ended very badly right there and then if Iceland hadn't suddenly become unfrozen. He ran over to the struggle and with a practiced motion kicked the barrel of the gun as hard as he could. The sudden impact ripped it out of both Finland's and Denmark's hands, who sat there frozen in surprise. The rifle clattered to the floor. Iceland was quick to pick it up and aimed it at Finland's head.

"Who's going to hell now?" He growled.

"Tch. You don't have the guts to pull that trigger." Finland sneered.

"Don't listen to him. He's trying to scare you." Denmark said and leaned forward, pinning the maniac down properly.

Finland tried struggling, but found it useless. Well this was a predicament. He couldn't show fear. He just had to scare Iceland, just as he did with Denmark, and get out of this somehow. Preferably conscious.

"You act all tough, but we all know that you're weak as shit." He continued.

"I'm not weak!" Iceland took careful aim.

Finland blinked. Shit. He stopped struggling and lay there limply, closing his eyes. He seemed to have fainted. Denmark wasn't fooled. He kept him down just in case.

"Iceland, Iceland is that you?" He suddenly said. Finland's old voice was back. "Don't shoot, Ice-kun. I don't want to harm you. I think I'm back to normal." Iceland hesitated.

"Let's all go and have a drink. Eat some salmon or something. I'll crack out my best salmiakki, and we'll prank foreigners with it." Finland continued. He knew that he had him on a hook. Now all he needed was that rifle.

"It'll be just like old times." Finland felt like one of those snake charmers. His mouth was a flute that sent out hypnotic tunes. This was easy.

Iceland lowered the gun.

"Good. Now all I need is for you to get Denmark off me and we can go."

"Huh?" The boy's eyebrows furrowed.

"Use the rifle. Shoot him in the leg or something. It'll hurt, but he'll survive."

"I don't want to."

"He's deluded. He thinks I'm evil, they both do." Finland half sobbed. Crafty bastard. "But you have to understand that I'm not. They're just lying to turn you against me." He made his voice go up two octaves, mimicking what he usually did when he was flustered.

"You shot Sweden."

"It was necessary. I didn't like it, but I had to."

Iceland slowly walked towards him.

"Iceland no!" Denmark shouted.

"Don't listen to him!" Finland snapped, but quickly regained his previous honeyed tone.

Iceland hesitated.

"Who's been your friend all this time? They ignored you, passed you off as just another small country. We've been excluded, and you know it."

"That's not true!" Denmark cried indignantly. He realised that he probably should have been nicer towards Iceland though. Well, it was too late now.

Iceland finally lifted the rifle again. He aimed at Denmark's leg.

"I'm so sorry."

He put his finger on the trigger.

"Iceland. The real Finland would never actually shoot one of us, even if we were evil. He would always try to do anything else before that. Violence is his last option, but to this guy it seems to be the first." Sweden suddenly piped up. "Yes, we may have excluded you in the past, but we try our hardest not to. We love you. You're part of our family. Our dysfunctional, yet happy family."

"Tch. Look at Mr Pep talk all of a sudden." Denmark muttered under his breath, but couldn't help smiling.

"Don't listen to that bastard! He's just trying to trick you." Finland's voice filled up with bile again. He couldn't help it. The hate he felt for them at that moment made him abandon all tact.

"No, he is." Sweden said calmly from his little corner.

"Fuck off! Why can't you just die already!?"

"I've had worse." This was true. He was so used to getting beaten up that this was virtually nothing. A bullet couldn't stop a nation. But it did hurt like hell though.

"Ugh. Enough of this bullshit! Iceland, just shoot him." He growled, craning his head to give Iceland an angry look.

"Yes." Iceland lifted the rifle again pointing it at Denmark. Finland smiled cruelly at the man on top of him.

"Game ove-"

Finland was cut off as he fainted instantly from the bullet that went straight through his head. Denmark felt him go limp, and noticing that he wasn't in pain understood what had happened. He got up and looked at Iceland with pure happiness reflected in his eyes.

"Thank you." He said after a pause and spat out his cigarette, opening his arms wide. "Huggies?" He had a ridiculously happy expression, making him look like a complete idiot compared to the seriousness that had dominated him only moments earlier. It was actually quite strange at how quickly he had changed, but Iceland ignored that.

"Ew, no." Iceland scowled.

"Pwease?" Denmark did his best puppy dog eyes.

"Speak normally. You sound like an idiot."

"Yup." Sweden agreed from his corner of blood.

"Hey!" His eyes widened.

"Ugh, fine." Iceland half-ran into Denmark's warm, safe arms and was reminded distinctly of his childhood.

"Welcome back, little bro."

"I could say the same to you. Idiot."

* * *

Germany stepped off the ferry with a misty sigh of relief, letting the tourists flow past him like an excited brook with their cameras and booklets. He had come to talk with the Nordics about trade and hang out with his cousins. They hadn't really met for a while apart from in meetings, and they wanted to have a bit of a meet up. It gave him a good excuse to get away from Italy, the clingy bastard. It was cold, mid-November to be exact, and he was shivering like hell. He was wearing his usual coat, but the freezing breeze managed to slip into every nook and cranny. He really should have put on a jumper or something underneath.

He trekked away from the tourists, away from the town and into the forest that almost enveloped it. The landscape really was beautiful though. The snow blanketed the forests of pine and birch and glittered with such intensity in the low-lying sun that it hurt his eyes to look at it. He kept his eyes lowered and marched down the two kilometre track to the Nordics' holiday cabin in the woods. Well, cabin wasn't exactly the right word. It was more like a normal house, but its solitude gave it that cabin feel.

* * *

"Hey, Denmark. Doesn't it feel like we've forgotten something?" Sweden suddenly said. They were still in Finland's room. They didn't have the energy to go out, so they decided to have a bit of a rest in the two beds that were there. Finland was lying on his bed with some makeshift bandages from the sheets around his head. They reckoned he'd be out for at least a day, granted that something weird didn't happen again.

The other three were sitting next to each other, just enjoying their undisturbed company. It felt so good not to worry. Or at least kind of. Norway was still out there doing god knows what, and they had no idea if Finland was still crazy or not. Sweden was toying with the rifle, not really sure what to do with it.

"What is it?"

"It feels like something was supposed to happen today." He muttered as he ran his fingers over the engravings. "But I can't for the life of me figure out what."

"It doesn't feel like we had any plans. And if we did then we probably forgot it in all this chaos. Meh, it'll be fine. It probably wasn't important."

"I hope so."

"Oh stop worrying. It'll be fine. We'll regain our strength and deal with all our problems later." Denmark gave his hand a quick squeeze and another light kiss on the cheek. "Chillax bro."

"Mm." Sweden sighed, content. He loved and hated this man equally.

* * *

The world was spinning. Everything was blurry. Norway awoke angry, in pain, confused and in desperate need of burning something. His vision got better after rubbing his eyes, but he still felt a bit woozy. The pain in both his arms would not subside. Only fire could make this better. He hefted himself up, clutching at a chair for support, and then staggered off into the kitchen to find something that he could burn shit with, like a box of matches or a lighter. He searched the cupboards first, but finding nothing got so irritated that he smashed a plate on the floor, leaving the white shards dangerously glinting on the floor. After a while he cooled down and tried to think. Wait, Denmark's lighter! He had set Sweden alight with that thing and dropped it. Not being able to see it from there because of his blurry eyesight, he hastily dropped onto his hands and knees, searching for that lighter amongst pottery shards, ash and water.

Norway felt new pain. It was coming from his finger. He lifted his hand to his face, and could see a small cut from one of the shards from the plate. Blood ran down from it in a small trickle onto the floor, instantly diluting with the water. He cursed himself for his stupidity and put his hand back down, but because of the water it slipped. It surprised him so much that it knocked him off balance and he crashed to the floor. He felt more pain coming from his side. That fucking plate!

The world was spinning again. Norway closed his eyes briefly and opened them again. Ah, that was better. Wait, was that…?

His blurry vision wasn't helping, but he thought he saw the transparent lighter in front of him. He reached out with his arm and grabbed it. He pushed down the button and smiled upon seeing the blurred flame. Yes, that would do.

He stood back up again and stared down at the floor. Was he just hallucinating, or were there rainbows dancing on top of it? Norway instantly remembered the lighter fluid. Quite a bit of it must have splashed onto the floor. He grinned. Perfect.

Norway pushed down the button on the lighter again and reached down with it to touch the floor. The lighter fuel floating on top of the water caught alight instantly, evaporating the water and giving off a foul smoke that spread its tendrils throughout the entire house.

He laughed as he watched the floor burn. Luckily the kitchen had tiles instead of wooden floorboards, or the whole house might have burned down. Norway reached down to touch the beautiful fire, but recoiled as the flames set his hands alight. He had been touching the lighter fluid and water mixture after all. He stared at them, amazed. The pain from his arms disappeared as he concentrated on his burning hands. This was good pain. Norway gave out a slight moan of ecstasy as he stood rooted to the spot, hypnotised by the flickering fire.

Beautiful.

* * *

Germany stood on the porch of the house, bracing himself. He was good friends with the Nordics but they were, well, a bit weird to say the least.

'But then aren't we all?' He thought light heartedly and knocked loudly on the white door with peeling paint. Hm, it really needed a new coat of paint. He thought Sweden was a bit of a perfectionist when it came to such things. Strange that he hadn't dealt with this already.

* * *

Norway was jolted from his ecstasy by the knock. Who could this be? He guessed that Finland really had gone out hunting while he was unconscious. He quickly ran to the sink and doused his hands thoroughly. He needed to be able to fight without distractions. His hands still hurt, but without the fire to distract him the pain felt much more realistic. Not fun. His bullet wounds suddenly started to hurt again and those small cuts were just being fucking annoying. He threw open the cutlery drawer and took out two carving knives, one he held in his charred, smoking hand and the other he hid in his coat. He then ran with all his might up the stairs into his study and locked the door behind him. To fight against Finland with a sniper rifle was certain death.

* * *

"Geez, what's taking them so long?" Germany muttered and rubbed his cold hands together. They had been warm whilst he was marching, but now that he was standing still, the cold was starting to get to him. He debated whether he should jog on the spot or something, but decided not to, just in case they came just then. That would be a bit weird.

Maybe they hadn't heard him? Germany knocked again, this time a little louder. He waited a few minutes, but after the door still didn't open he pushed down the handle. The door was unlocked.

Germany stepped inside and peered down the hallway. Empty.

"Hello? Is anyone home? You don't mind if I just came in, do you? It was getting cold." He called into the eerily quiet house. Getting no reply, he started to check the rooms one by one. He poked his head into the storage room and the lounge before deciding to go into the kitchen. He left the staircase alone, as he knew that was where their offices were. They probably wouldn't be there on a Saturday.

Suddenly he noticed the pungent smell of smoke. He was used to it mainly from his failed cooking attempts, but this smelled different. It smelled of chemicals. Germany crept into the kitchen/dining room hybrid and was met by an almost physical wall of the scent of smoke. He wrinkled his nose at it and looked at the kitchen area.

"My god, it's burning!" he cried and flung himself over there. He found the bucket lying aimlessly on the floor and he picked it up, running through the flames that seemed to consume the floor to the tap. He filled the bucket up halfway and chucked it onto the flames that licked his boots dangerously. About half of them sizzled out immediately, and the experienced soldier wasted no time in filling up the bucket and putting the rest of them out. The process took no more than a minute.

"Is anyone home? Your kitchen was just burning!" He called again, this time louder.

* * *

Sweden abruptly stopped stroking Denmark's head that was in his lap. The lightly snoozing Iceland noticed the sudden change of movement and his eyes fluttered open.

"Did you just hear something?" He grumbled.

Denmark's head perked up. "Yeah. It sounds like somebody's out there."

"Norway?" Iceland eyebrows furrowed themselves quizzically.

"No, it sounded like someone else…." Sweden paled. "Now I remember."

"What is it?" Denmark sounded worried.

"Germany was meant to come round today."

Denmark face palmed himself. "Oh my god, how could we forget that?"

"I don't know, but he's here on time, as always." Sweden sighed, checking his watch.

"Fuck. We gotta go out there."

"We look like shit."

"Never mind that, it'll be rude if we don't!" Denmark exclaimed, practically dragging Sweden out with him. "Iceland, come with us. This might need some explaining."

* * *

Germany was about to say something again when he was met by Denmark, Sweden and Iceland.

"Oh finally, I thought you weren't…" he trailed off, looking at them. "…home."

He paused, not sure what to say. There was a bit of an awkward silence. Stoic people and awkward situations do not mix. Finally Denmark felt obliged to say something. He put a huge grin and offered his hand out for Germany to shake.

"Yeah, you could say shit's really been happening today! We're in a bit of a predicament as you can see." He laughed as if it was nothing and tried not to wince at Germany's overly firm handshake.

"So, what exactly has happened?" Germany asked, taking a look around the wrecked room as he shook the other two's hands.

"We don't really know." Sweden muttered. His poker face returned as he met Germany's handshake with equal force.

"But basically…" Denmark started explaining all the events of the day so far, with a few muttered interjections from Sweden.

* * *

"…So yeah, that's when you came in." Denmark finally finished his lengthy tale. He felt really thirsty after all this talking. "So what do you think happened?"

"I'm not sure, but it could be your 2p's." Germany offered.

"2p's? What's that?" Denmark inquired.

"It's like a second personality. It happens sometimes to me and Italy, and to my knowledge all the other countries too. These people are like your opposite selves, often cruel, sadistic or psychopathic."

"That makes sense I guess. Sweden was really weird." Denmark noted, much to Sweden's annoyance.

"Tch. Speak for yourself." He muttered under his breath.

"So you're saying that we've been possessed." Iceland sounded sceptical.

"I'm not sure how it works, but maybe." Germany said.

"So how do you get them back?" Iceland crossed his arms.

"I don't know. It usually stops over time."

"So you're telling us to just wait?" Denmark cried.

"Pretty much." Germany sighed with an apologetic shrug.

There was another awkward silence. Denmark was too lost in thought to break it, so this time Germany was forced to do it.

"Did I mention that your kitchen was on fire?" Germany asked. "I put it out of course." He added hastily after seeing their worried looks.

"Oh, that would be Norway." Denmark explained.

"Speaking of Norway, where is he?"

* * *

They all looked around nervously. The pyromaniac could be anywhere. A thump could be heard from upstairs.

"We should probably check that out." Sweden grunted.

"Yeah." They all agreed.

* * *

Silently they crept up the stairs to the offices. There was a trail of blood that stained the carpets and led them up into the second floor, like hunters following a wounded animal. Norway had failed to remember his wounds in his desperation to get away from Finland.

Here the burnt smell wasn't as bad. Denmark had almost forgotten how much he missed fresh air. The trail of blood was leading into Norway's office, so with a few nods they decided to check there first. Sweden brandished a knife he had just pinched from the kitchen drawer and pushed down the handle. Locked.

Norway was sitting at his desk chair, staring intently at the door handle. He had been sitting like that for a while now, around half an hour actually, just because he was so paranoid about Finland.

So when the door handle was finally pushed down, you can understand that he was more than a little freaked out.

"Stay out!" He squeaked and opened the window for a quick escape route. The snow would soften his fall anyway.

"Norway! Are you alright?" Denmark muffled voice came through the door.

"No! Leave me alone!"

"Norway?"

"Go away Finland! Stop tormenting me!" He was so flustered that he couldn't even discern whose voice it was. Just to be safe he assumed that it was Finland.

"I'm not Finland." Denmark reassured him. "It's fine."

"I don't believe you." Norway muttered.

"Right, I'm going in." Sweden said decisively, slipping the knife inside his sleeve.

"Wait-"

"Screw you, he needs help. This will never end if we continue like this."

He took a deep breath and punched the door with all his might. The thin wood splintered, and Sweden's fist ended up making a hole right through the door. He winced as he thought of the reparations he was going to have to do later, but nevertheless started to tear the weakened wood out from the inside of the hole he had made.

* * *

Norway was trapped as far as he could see. He was alone against what seemed like multiple people outside, including Sweden whom he definitely did not wish to fight with just two kitchen knives. He crept over to the window and after taking a deep breath jumped right into the snow, scampering off like a rabbit whilst trying to ignore the cold that was entering his half-burned clothes. He did not relish the crisp, fresh air. The smoke was warm and safe. It reminded him much of fire actually. But in this winter wonderland no flames could escape. The thought sent shivers down his spine, or was that just the cold? It was better than being attacked though.

'I really should have brought a coat.' Norway thought bitterly.

* * *

Sweden continued to punch the door until a hole big enough to climb through emerged. He stood aside and made an inviting gesture into the office. Everybody marvelled at this.

'Hmph, show-off. Completely unnecessary too.' Denmark thought, but still climbed through the door.

'No finesse whatsoever. Still, he got the job done.' Germany thought. 'We're quite obviously related.' He added dryly to himself and followed after Denmark.

Iceland just stared wide-eyed until Sweden ushered him in.

It was completely empty. The window was wide open, sending a cold stream into the room. It was obvious where the pyromaniac had gone.

"Well done Sverige." Denmark remarked sarcastically, clapping slowly.

"Well it's better than what you would have done. At least I did something." Sweden retorted.

"Well at least I have some tact." Denmark turned his nose up in the air arrogantly.

Sweden took a few menacing steps towards him. "What did you say?"

"I said, at least I have some tact."

Sweden grabbed Denmark's shirt collar.

"No matter what I do, you will always have ten times less tact than I have. "

"Heh, the difference between us is that I know how to act in social situations. You don't. Therefore I have more tact."

"That's not my fault!" Sweden shouted indignantly.

"Uhh, yes it is. And don't blame your cold climate. Finland is just as cold and he turned out alright."

"Are you suggesting there's something wrong with me?"

Denmark gave him a smirk. "Yeah, what if I am?"

"I hate you. You and your ugly language!"

"My language is not ugly!" Now it was Denmark's turn to be indignated.

"It is too." He chuckled.

Iceland sighed. "I'm really sorry about this. They're best friends half of the time and the other half they want to kill each other. It's a love hate relationship." He explained apologetically to Germany as best as he could over the loud bickering of the two. The German was distinctly reminded of a certain French and Englishman.

"Guys. Don't forget that we have a guest here." Iceland spoke up through gritted teeth just as Sweden started trying to bash Denmark's head against the wall whilst his opponent was kicking him repeatedly in the stomach. They had forgotten all their previous pains in the familiar adrenaline of a fight. "So stop acting like an old married couple and help us catch Norway."

They both immediately stopped, blushing.

"We're not an old married couple. That's what Finny is for." Denmark muttered.

"Sorry." Sweden bowed in the direction of Germany and quickly regained his composure, even though he was inwardly dying of embarrassment. Denmark quickly followed suit with the apology.

Germany coughed. This was very awkward. He had forgotten about their old grudges.

"J-Ja. We should probably follow." He stammered, glad to change the subject. He walked over to the window. There were clear tracks from where Norway had been wading through the snow. They disappeared shortly into the forest.

"Let's go." He ordered and without any hesitation jumped out through the window. The others followed when he had moved out of the way, with Sweden going last after having checked behind him. He thought briefly of Finland, but decided to shove that aside considering his wound. They should be home with plenty of time to spare.

* * *

Russia was right; snow really did break your fall. It was just that he had fallen from such an unfortunate height, which had gotten the poor Russian such bad injuries. Still, not too bad. Germany marvelled at this as he fell, hardly feeling anything.

"If you're cold, just bite your fingers or something. The pain should take your mind off it." Denmark suggested helpfully to Germany once they were all down and took the lead, following the tracks Norway had made. It was considerably easier now that they didn't have to wade through the deep snow.

* * *

"You disappoint me, White."

Finland opened his eyes. There he was again, that stranger. His head hurt so much he could hardly think.

"Try again. This time, get it right. They slipped through your fingers last time, but I won't allow it this time."

"Y-y-yes." Finland groaned. He was too tired to argue.

He fell unconscious again.

Finland's counterpart clenched his fists.

"I won't let those fucking bastards get away. This time they'll all feel my pain." He vowed. It was a promise to himself that could never be broken. Then he disappeared, dissolving into the night like a shadow. The only thing left behind was a faint red glow hanging in mid-air like a twisted mirage.

"I'll be back."


	5. Chapter 5

God, I'm so sorry for the _extremely_ late update. I have nothing to blame except my own procrastination. I won't promise anything for next week, but I have a pretty good idea of what's going to happen. I promise it'll be much more lighthearted!

However, I've made this chapter extra long to make up for it. Hope you like it!

Please keep in mind that this contains swearing and some pretty graphic violence. You have been warned.

* * *

A pure white landscape. Just like paper. Such a shame that it couldn't burn…

Norway ran onwards, not caring where he was going or how long he had been. All that was repeated in his mind was ''Onwards, onwards. You must go onwards. Don't let them catch you." He knew however, that the town would be somewhere around here. If he just went forwards, he would get there eventually. But he was making slow progress. The untouched snow in the forest had been piling up for more than a month, and consequently it was really deep. In certain parts he would suddenly slip and feel his boot get stuck, which would require a few seconds to dig it out. Every time this happened Norway would get more panicked, and soon he was hyperventilating. In his mind everyone was right behind him, although he didn't have the guts to look back.

If he had done so he would have realised how easy it would have been to follow him. His tracks stuck out for a mile away and he had just ploughed the way for the others. All they had to do was walk.

* * *

Germany cursed his stupidity. He was cold, overly so, and all because he didn't bring a base layer. To be fair, he didn't know that he would be going on a snow chase, but still. This was definitely worse than the trek to the house. Before he had been marching along a path. Now he was walking through a forest with walls of snow next to him half a metre tall in some places. He realised that if he was cold, then Norway must have been close to fucking hypothermia as he was taking the brunt of it. Denmark as well.

Well, Germany was not one to complain. He had suffered worse, after all. No, this was nothing. Sure, his coat was soaking, but he could live with that. Sure, he felt like his snot was freezing to ice in his nose, but he could live with that. He raised a soaking gloved hand, and with renewed vigour bit into it quite hard.

"Hey, it works!" he exclaimed in delightful surprise.

"I know right?" Denmark joined in, glad to finally say something. He thought the air was getting a bit tense.

"Well, no shit. Why is that so amazing?" Iceland muttered under his breath. He was directing the comment to himself, but Sweden heard it.

"It's amazing to a person who's never done something like this before." He whispered back.

"Yeah, I think I got that."

"Hm."

"Sarcasm. Get it right." He said with much eye rolling.

"Mhm." His repeated short answer made him sound completely disinterested.

* * *

Denmark felt immense pride and joy in being the impromptu leader of this little expedition. It made him feel wanted. He had momentarily forgotten about all his woes and was actually feeling quite good. After all, he had to keep some pretences up around strangers, especially Germany. They would all just take this all too seriously, and that wasn't fun. He felt it was his duty to keep things light hearted. He giggled slightly to himself at the thought of what would happen if he wasn't there. Talk about awkward.

As he walked along smiling idiotically to himself, Denmark suddenly gave out a sharp cry as he felt his foot sink down further than expected. Huh? He was sure the ground was closer. Denmark looked down.

Germany was forced to dig his heels into the ground to stop himself crashing into Denmark at the sudden stop.

"What is the holdup?" The German growled, slightly pissed off that his marching pace had been interrupted. He hoped that it didn't show in his voice, although really he needn't have. He always sounded slightly pissed off.

The sudden disappearance of crunching footsteps behind them indicated that the others had stopped.

"Shit! I'm stuck!" Denmark muttered a few Danish swearwords under his breath, then got to the task of trying to dig himself out. Of course, it didn't work. He wasn't flexible enough to get to the worst parts.

Sweden gave Iceland a meaningful look and gestured over to the swearing Dane. But the boy shook his head and pointed to his gloveless hands.

"You do it." Iceland hissed.

"You know how much he hates me helping him." The tall man hissed back.

"And you know how annoying he gets when I help him. I'll never hear the end of it."

Sweden took a deep, irritated breath. "Fine." He mouthed.

"Do you want me to help, Dan?" Sweden sighed. He knew how sensitive these situations could be. They had put old prejudices aside long ago, but pride would never cease to persist.

Denmark jerked his foot upwards in frustration, but the snow had already packed itself in around the boot.

"Yes." He said through gritted teeth. He hated getting help from others in stupid situations like these, and especially not from Sweden. His pride would not allow that. However, his pride would have to go and stuff itself now, because there was nothing else that could be done. Well, he could ask somebody else, but that would make him seem rude to refuse an offer like that. Anything was better than being rude, especially in front of guests.

Sweden walked through the deep untouched snow around Iceland and Germany, and dropped to his knees in front of Denmark. As he started to dig, Denmark noticed that his saviour was not wearing gloves.

"Aren't your hands cold?" He huffed.

"Mm."

"Here, take mine." He took his gloves off and offered them out to his friend.

"They don't fit me." Sweden muttered, not pausing in his work.

"Suit yourself."

Denmark was admittedly a little deflated after being refused like that. He put the gloves back on with a scowl.

"Done." Sweden stood up and rubbed his hands together. They were tinged a very faint light blue.

"Thanks." Denmark pulled his foot out with ease, scattering small fragments of tightly packed snow everywhere.

"Come, let's hurry. We're delayed now by two minutes." Germany barked, checking his watch with a precise movement.

Sweden silently returned to his place at the back and they continued to march onwards. Foot shaped holes appeared occasionally and they knew that their quarry had suffered the same fate.

"We're getting closer." The leader remarked. "I can almost smell him."

"That's creepy." Iceland made a face.

"The smell of smoke has followed him like a loyal dog." Denmark sniffed again. "Can't you smell it?"

"Uhh, no."

"I have to agree with him. I really can't smell anything." Sweden agreed.

"You disappoint me Sverige. I thought your senses were better than that."

"I'm afraid I can't feel anything either." Germany spoke up.

"Oh come on." Denmark spread out his arms exasperatedly. "Please don't tell me you can't smell it. It's really strong. I mean honestly, it almost feels like there's a fire burning wet logs right next to us."

"You're hallucinating."

"No I'm not! Besides, since when could you hallucinate with smells?"

"Certain gases can make you do that. I remember that from when I was developing mustard gas."

"Wait, you think I was gassed?" He laughed, flopping his hair over the other way as he tipped his head backwards. "This is too funny!"

Germany sighed. "I never said you were for sure. It was a suggestion. But it does seem pretty likely considering that you spent a lot of time alone with them. And according to you Iceland never left that room. I don't think he would have been affected by something. And if he's the same as us, then the only logical explanation is that something happened to you."

Denmark stopped laughing abruptly. He had a point. "I…Really?" He hesitated. "No. It's not me. It's too strong for that." He wasn't too sure of himself though. "I don't think I've been directly sprayed with any gas." He struggled to think.

"It's fine. We've all had a long day."

"No! It's not me." Denmark's eyes widened. "It can't..." He trailed off. "...be."

Shit.

Something clicked within him. He clutched desperately at his head as he remembered what had happened last night, and that overwhelming feeling that something had been done to him in his sleep returned. It felt like it would knock him over with its sheer force.

 _They_ had messed up his smell in his sleep. _Those vile things_ did it while the doors were open. He should have known that _they_ would have taken any chance they could get to mess him up.

It was the only logical explanation, right?

Denmark fell to his knees, not caring that the snow was soaking his knees. Before the cold was a nagging sensation, now it was nothing in the face of this new feeling. He started hyperventilating, his whole body shaking like an aspen leaf as he futilely tried to convince himself that it wasn't true.

Germany put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?" God these people were weird.

Denmark slowly turned around, but the person Germany saw was no longer Denmark. It was just a quivering mess.

"Back away. You'll catch it too."

"That's rubbish. You can't catch hallucinations. Besides, it's not for certainty."

But Denmark only seemed to grow more enraged by that. "Get away from me!" He screamed. Germany backed away quickly. They all listened to his voice echo through the empty forest. The trees shook a little in an incoming breeze. All was silent.

"Well, now you blew it Dan." Iceland scowled, but his voice was tinged with worry.

"Aaaargh stop it!" Denmark covered his ears with his hands, rocking back and forth on the ground. He was repeating the word 'no' over and over under his breath.

"So what now?" Iceland turned to Sweden, who was just staring. "He's a complete mess and probably just alerted Norway of our presence."

"I honestly don't know."

"Germany? Please have something."

Germany shook his head. "I'm sorry. You guys know them best. Personally I'd ditch him to chase Norway, but in this cold…"

"Oh he should be fine. He's used to it unlike you. What's bothering me is nightfall. It's only a few hours away, and, well, let's just say that an open cupboard door did this to him." Sweden cut in.

"An open cupboard door?"

"I have no idea. I'll ask him later if he feels better."

" _If?_ You mean _when_ , right?" Iceland's eyebrows furrowed.

"Oh, um yeah. Everything's gonna be fine Ice." Sweden lied swiftly.

Iceland's eyes narrowed. He stared at Sweden, then Germany, looking wholly unconvinced.

"I think I've got something."

"What?"

"Svi, pick him up. Germany, you lead. Just follow the tracks."

"NO!" Denmark cried, momentarily taking a hand off one of his ears to make a 'stop' kind of gesture. He regretted it instantly though, snatching it back to cover his exposed ear. The breeze sounded too much like those demonic whispers.

"That sounds like a great idea." Sweden grunted and walked over to the man huddling on the ground.

"Come on."

"NO."

"If you're not coming willingly, I'll have to take you by force."

"NO! Don't take me away from them!"

"That's it." Sweden grabbed Denmark's arm forcefully and tried to drag him up. He was, of course, met with much resistance. "What are you even talking about?"

"Please don't take me away!" He was on the verge of crying. "The bed was my last sanctum. You can't violate that!"

Sweden realised that the way he was going about this was probably not going to work. Instead he grabbed him by the waist and hoisted him over his shoulder. Denmark just lay there limply and stared blankly right at Iceland.

"Fine. I don't care anymore. Just don't hurt them. Please don't." He rambled on.

* * *

Just thinking about last night made Denmark imagine it all over again. As he lay there quivering on the ground, reality melded into his nightmare world. The ground was now his bed, crisp white snow covering it like a sheet. It was all the same anyway. Soon the people he knew were mere shadows. They were the monsters he had encountered every night for at least a few years now. He honestly believed that they were. So when Sweden grabbed his arm Denmark thought he was going to have a heart attack. They had never physically touched him before, so why would they suddenly now? At first he resisted, but then found himself becoming paralysed in fear as he was slung over his shoulder. He could probably have escaped, but it was impossible to even move a finger right now. He screwed his eyes up even tighter, not wanting to see the horror that was carrying him away. Unfortunately that made him start imagining all sorts of things, which hardly made the situation better.

"I give up." Denmark whispered and tried to suppress the thoughts.

* * *

Norway was running for his life. He had heard Denmark's cry behind him, and it freaked him out. He knew they were on his trail; he always had at the back of his mind. What was a determined walk became a desperate sprint. He sprinted, not looking back, not caring where he was going. Just anywhere away from here.

Norway's ears perked up when he heard a sudden noise behind him. It sounded almost like footsteps. He stopped and looked backwards. Nothing. It must have been his imagination. He took a few steps forward without looking. Suddenly he bumped into something, making him wince. His arms still hurt like hell. That was strange; he hadn't remembered a tree there. Norway swung his head around to look at what he had crashed into.

"Hello there sweetheart!"

* * *

Germany was counting the beat of his march inside his head. "Eins, zwei, drei vier. Eins, zwei-"

He was cut off as he heard a scream echo in the distance, making a light powder of snow fall from the layered branches of the pine trees. Germany stopped, and his eyebrows furrowed.

"Did you hear that?"

"Mm." Sweden stopped and gazed blankly into the distance. He had a pretty good idea of what that had been.

However, this worried Germany slightly. He did not want another randomly collapsing person on his hands. "You alright?" He asked, a note of genuine concern burrowing its way into his usually stern voice.

"Fine. Let's hurry." He muttered. In all honesty he didn't feel too good. It was only sheer willpower that kept him walking now. The trail of blood he was leaving behind was considerable, despite earlier efforts to bandage the wound. It was best to leave the bullet in just to stop some of the bleeding, but it meant that every step required great mental effort not to wince. He had to appear strong. He told himself that it was for Iceland's sake, but deep down Sweden knew that this was mostly for his own mental stability. He guessed that he would always be a selfish being after all. He chuckled slightly, but the muscle contractions made the wound hurt even more, so he stopped.

Casting one last worried look behind him, Germany marched onwards, although not at the same rapid pace as before having noticed the pain his cousin seemed to be in.

"What are you doing? Faster." Sweden growled, his voice laced with anxiety.

"You sure?"

"Of course. Norge takes priority right now."

"At least let me take him." Germany said, motioning towards Denmark. His face was twitching as if he was having a bad dream.

"It's fin-" Sweden began to decline, but Iceland cut him off.

"Let him take the bastard. There is no need for you to push yourself." The younger nation crossed his arms and gave Sweden his best glare.

"Bu-" Feeling as though he had to repay Denmark for all the trouble he had caused, the large man grabbed his ankles even tighter.

"No buts." Iceland's voice softened. "You've done more than enough today." He said that, but felt absolutely useless himself. Here everybody else was, the knights in shining armour, and here he was-child again- unable to do anything but watch as the others protected him time after time. It pissed him off to no extent.

Germany extended his arms to receive the limp body of the Dane. Reluctantly, Sweden relinquished his grip. "Don't drop him." He muttered.

"What do you take me for?" He swung the body over his shoulder with a smooth movement that suggested he had done things like this many times before. Germany found himself thanking his useless older brother for forcing him to carry all those sacks of potatoes when he was younger. There were also quite a few times during the wars when he was forced to do this kind of stuff too. All those people… Germany shook his head and cleared his mind. There was no point getting sentimental now, they had to focus on the task at hand.

The weight threw him off for a few seconds, but he quickly got into his usual stride. Silence descended once again as they trudged off towards the origin of the scream. After a minute or so, several shots were heard. A ridiculous amount of shots in fact. Sweden gritted his teeth and clutched his stomach as the pace increased rapidly. They were now at a steady jog.

Luckily, they weren't far off. It wasn't long before Germany spotted something. His eyes grew wide as he uttered a gasp more of surprise than from anything else.

"What is it?!" Iceland snapped irritably. He had been stuck behind the tall German and couldn't see anything. Without uttering a word, the person blocking his way gestured over to the place next to him. The boy complied, but immediately wished he hadn't. In front of them, only about ten metres away was Norway. He was lying completely still in a rapidly expanding pool of blood, dying the pure white snow a blood red. The scene looked a little similar to Finland dying his clothes. Corruption spread like wildfire. In this blanched monochrome world the red stood out so violently that it threatened to take over. It was beautiful in a way. Plumes of blood spread out from the limp body like a flower blooming in spring, creating a stark contrast to the spring snow stubbornly clinging on to life. Except this wasn't spring. It was still mid-winter. This flower of pain was wholly unnatural.

Iceland felt tears springing to his eyes as he rushed like a madman towards his brother. Not caring about his clothes, he sank down to his knees by his side. The blood crept up his trouser leg as he shook Norway repeatedly.

"Norway!" No reaction. Those eyes stared blankly up at the cold, grey sky.

"Norge!" Still nothing.

Finally it hit him. "Big brother! I'll call you that as many times as you want, just don't pass out here!"

Sweden stepped forward and grabbed his arm. "It's no use. He'll be gone for at least a week with those wounds." He shook his head at the multiple bullet holes that peppered him from head to toe. Those looked nasty. What Finland had done to him was nothing compared to this.

"NO! You can't do this to me now!" Iceland shook Norway even more furiously, tears now streaming freely onto his unnaturally pale face. "Big brother please. Not now. Not here. You need to hold on!"

"You're making it worse." Sweden grunted. His expression was unreadable.

"I don't care! He's already fucked, right? You said so yourself." The boy furiously batted the older man's hand away and continued to shake his brother. "You have to wake up." He whispered, sounding utterly defeated.

By now Sweden had had enough. This was clearly distressing, and he wasn't helping. He grabbed Iceland's arm, but this time with more force. He could feel all the bones underneath the thin appendage. It would be so easy to break. Just a little more force… No. What the hell was he thinking?

"Let go of me, asshole!" Iceland screamed, lashing out against Sweden. But he was resolute. The taller man pulled his arm, with much protesting.

"Let go!"

"No."

* * *

Another shot was heard. It was like a delayed reaction. Sweden could have sworn he heard the shot way before he felt it. Then the pain kicked in. He struggled not to cry out as his arm was blown backwards, immediately letting go of the boy's frail limb.

"What the- Are you alright?" Germany dropped Denmark and ran over to Sweden, who was now huddling on the ground, cradling his arm.

"Y-y-yeah." It sounded like such a lie. He was obviously in pain. He inspected the wound, noting that the shot had been fired with some extraordinary precision. Whoever it was knew what he was doing. And there was only one person he knew around here that could do something like that without risking the life of poor Iceland.

"You heartless bastard. That should teach you to let people have their tender moments in peace."

A figure emerged from behind a nearby tree. Finland cast a long shadow in front of him, the sun lying low behind his head like a halo. With his unnatural red eyes and confident smirk, he looked almost godlike.

"After all, that makes it so much more fun to break their tiny little hearts later on!" He chuckled, swinging the rifle nonchalantly across his shoulder.

Iceland stared, too shocked to say anything.

"But- but you were completely out last time I saw you!" Germany exclaimed. "We may be immortal, but that's plain impossible."

"You underestimate me." He pointed a judging finger. "Do you seriously think I'm the same as you boring cunts?"

"That doesn't give you an excuse." Sweden muttered. But Finland's ears were sharp as hell. He gave him an arrogant smirk, raising the gun and aiming it at his husband's head.

"I wouldn't speak if I were you." He chuckled. "Have you forgotten what you yourself did?"

"At least I'm sorry about it."

A look of disgust crossed the crazed gunman's face. He stooped down to pick up a fistful of snow and painstakingly squeezed it into a compact ball with his free hand. Germany would have acted if it wasn't for the gun.

He decided to stay low for now and made up a quick plan of action while he waited. Wait for an opening and then grapple him to the ground. Seize the gun. Take him hostage and tie him up properly until he calms down. Yes, that sounded good.

"You see this?" Finland held the snowball up so that everybody could see. "Yes, that's right. I could cause you pain without even touching you- hell- without pulling the trigger."

Sweden gazed up at the snowball and at once understood what it meant. "No." He found himself trembling. He was no stranger to pain, but that didn't mean he liked it. In fact, he didn't even want to think about what a well-aimed snowball could do right now. He was trying not to show it, but it hurt so badly already. His tightly clamped teeth was just about the only thing that was keeping him down to earth right now. Sweden tried not to think about the blood gushing out of this arm, and just hoped his would end quickly.

"Are you ready, cause you're in for a whole world of hurt!" Finland shouted gleefully and took aim.

Sweden's eyes widened. "Please no."

Too late.

* * *

The snowball landed square on his stomach wound. Finland was an accurate bastard. The man kneeling on the ground uttered a grunt of pain, but otherwise kept silent as he curled into a ball. It hurt so much. The burn wounds made every inch of his chest really sensitive, to the point where anything more than the slightest touch would make him wince slightly. Still, it wasn't as bad as he had expected.

Finland didn't seem satisfied with this response. He wanted some screams, but this bastard was taking everything without any form of complaint. This was going to be a tough nut to crack. Just physically hurting his victim wasn't satisfying enough. He needed to know that he had mentally broken him. He had already done so with Norway and Denmark. Iceland was pretty much counted for. God he looked like a nervous wreck, lying there completely frozen while he stared at his brother. Germany would have to come later. Finland knew he himself had the advantage. He could afford to play this out a little longer. However he couldn't help feeling that he needed some rest. His head was throbbing after that bastard Iceland shot him. Somehow it didn't hurt that much, but he didn't know how long this was going to last.

"Get back up. I can't aim for your stomach if you're curled up like that." He spat whilst making another snowball. Despite having both his hands busy, he kept a vigilant eye on them all, especially Germany. Any opening could ruin this.

Sweden stayed defiantly as he was, giving Germany a pleading look. Not knowing what to do, Germany gave him what he thought was a reassuring nod.

"Why are you doing this?" He asked

"Reasons you wouldn't understand, asshole." Finland snapped. "You move an inch and he gets shot." He gestured with his head towards Iceland. It was an easy target, unmoving. The German didn't dare do anything. He would have been fine getting shot himself, but Iceland was so young. The boy had never experienced a real war, never experienced the true pain of betrayal, and he wanted it to stay that way.

"Did you hear me?" Finland switched his piercing glare to Sweden. "You don't do as I say and poor, innocent little Ice gets shot. And I can guarantee that it's going to be in a place where it'll hurt." He snarled and pointed the gun at Iceland.

Sweden, mortified at the very thought, did as he was told and sat back up on his knees, baring his chest forwards. He would endure this, for Iceland's sake. Bracing himself, he unclamped his jaws briefly to say, "Bring it on."

Finland smiled sadistically. "Now that's what I want to see." He kept the rifle pointed at Iceland and threw another snowball on Sweden's wound again. The man shivered, but did not fall.

Finland made several snowballs, sticking some in his pockets as he assailed Sweden's chest over and over. His deep red eyes glinted with excitement.

It was quite difficult for Sweden to stay silent during this. Every snowball felt like a stone, and Iceland's wellbeing was not helping his sanity right now. He knew it was a reaction Finland wanted, and he was not going to give it to him until the end. This was kind of lame to be honest. Torture by snowballs wasn't exactly very efficient or effective. It still hurt like shit though. The blonde screwed up his eyes in anticipation for the next strike.

Hm. This didn't seem to be working. Finland knew he'd have to patient but the fact was he wasn't feeling very patient right now. He hesitated for the next one.

"This is boring." He made an exaggerated yawn for effect. With a quick glance at them all, Finland suddenly sprang forward and kicked Sweden in the chest, who having his eyes closed, didn't anticipate it. He made a choking sound as he fell backwards into the snow. Finland had hit him right where he'd been shot earlier.

"Didn't see that coming did ya'?" Finland whooped as he got the desired reaction. Well, not quite, but close enough. He kept his rifle pointed at Iceland at all times as he advanced.

The Swede reflexively coughed, but was mortified to see blood spurt out of his mouth and cast crimson spots on the ground next to him. It wasn't much, but enough to freak Iceland out. Finally the boy unfroze. He turned around slowly, his mouth slightly open in shock.

"Answer me, cunt!" The man with the gun screamed angrily. He stomped on the Swede's face, breaking his glasses. The whole world instantly became blurry.

"W-wh-what?" Sweden stuttered, voice still reeling from the shock, but otherwise didn't make any noise.

"I said, DID YOU SEE THAT COMING?!" Finland shouted and stomped on his face again. Not getting the desired reaction, he continued to kick and stomp on his chest and face. The others could do nothing but watch, horrified as the crazed gunman kept abusing the poor man, who was starting to cough up even more blood. Still, he only let out the occasional grunt or whimper as the blows continued to rain down on him from all directions. However this did not distract Finland from keeping Kivääri trained at all times on the shocked Iceland.

"PLEASE STOP!" Iceland finally screamed, tears filling his eyes. This was horrible. He was too scared to move and get shot, even though Sweden was obviously suffering.

"And what makes you think I'd actually listen to you?" Finland spat, not letting up in his work. "You're just a weak asshole who just hides behind stronger people! What would you ever understand?!"

"I'm not weak!"

"Yes you fucking are. Everyone thinks so!" Finland stopped abusing his husband for a second. Putting a menacing foot on his cheek, he asked him a question. "What do you think, _beloved husband_?"

"I-ice." Sweden spluttered, using the boy's pet name. "Don't listen to hi-"

"That's right!" Finland removed his foot and kicked him in the stomach. "He fucking hates you."

He continued kicking his victim.

* * *

All Sweden could see were Finland's red eyes boring into him when he opened his eyes from time to time. Everything else was just one big haze, but it was the eyes that really stuck out to him. It wasn't natural. He would gladly have endured this forever if it wasn't for those horrible eyes. There was something so deeply malicious in them that it made him want to curl up into a ball. Eventually the blows merged into each other. He started seeing things. Suddenly the _thing_ was gone, and the old Finny took his place. Those soft, melty lilac eyes twinkled and smiled as he beat him up. The pain faded slowly as the imaginary Finland softly said, "I'm so sorry. Just hold out with it, okay?"

"I gladly accept your judgement." Sweden whispered back in his head. His bloody lips curled upwards into a faint smile.

* * *

Iceland fell silent for a while, trying not to wince as one of his guardians was slowly being beaten up more and more. Finland's words had really struck a chord in him. No. Fuck that shit! He was going to show that bastard once and for all! He stared at Finland intently, searching desperately for the opening along with Germany. Except he wasn't as cautious. He felt unusually calm considering the situation. If he was going to be shot, so be it. Better that than forever agonising over the thought that he had never helped.

And there it was. Finland left his gaze slide off him for a mere few seconds, but it was enough for him.

Iceland sprang up from his crouching position, accelerating off the ground with a sudden spurt of energy that Finland certainly wasn't expecting. He reached out with his arm to grab the barrel of the gun. God, he really hadn't thought through this. It was too late to stop now though.

Finland was so busy abusing Sweden that he didn't notice the first few milliseconds. It seemed to be going well for Iceland, but unfortunately for him Finland had some demonic reaction skills. It didn't take long before the finger on the trigger instinctively pulled. Iceland reeled from the shot as blood spurted from his shoulder, but he was resolute. He uttered a short cry of pain, but sprang at him again. But by now the element of surprise was gone. Finland shot him once more, this time in the leg.

"You punk! Ya' thought you could escape me?" Finland spat, turning his attention away from his husband briefly to face Iceland, who was now lying in a heap on the ground. Now that one of his legs were gone, it meant that he couldn't pull any similar stunts again.

"Tch. Honestly, get some fucking brains."

He took a step forward and using his foot, pushed the boy into a face down position.

"Good dog. Stay like that or master will be very angry with you." Finland said in one of those over-exaggerated voices people naturally seem to speak to dogs with and stepped onto the back of his head, pushing his face into the snow. Iceland screamed again, feeling the hot tears escape from under his closed eyelids and melt the snow pressed against his face. His tormentor put the barrel of the rifle against his back and turned around to the completely stunned Germany.

"I wasn't joking you know. You move, he gets hurt. It's as simple as that really." Finland stated with an arrogant head toss. He pushed the rifle down harder to emphasize this point, making Iceland squeak pathetically.

"Ice stay calm! We'll figure this out somehow." Germany tried to assure him, although he didn't sound very convinced.

"G-Germany is right." Sweden uttered weakly. "Don't l-let him get to ya'. S' what he w-wants."

"Shut up asshole, I'm not done with you yet!" Finland screamed, pure rage reflected in his eyes as spittle came flying out of his mouth. He bared his teeth as he looked around. "New rule. If anyone else makes a noise the puppy gets some discipline. Something akin to what happened to his older friend I believe." He shouted viciously with a small gesture towards the utterly beaten up Sweden.

Nobody said anything.

"I'm glad you all understand me. Now hopefully we won't have any more disobedient dogs." Finland calmed down immediately once he had re-established control.

"Did you hear that from down there?" He mockingly asked Iceland, who had been surprisingly quiet and still during all this. "That includes you too."

"Mhm." Iceland's muffled grunt could vaguely be heard to signal that he had heard.

"I said no making noises you cunt!" Finland cried gleefully and raised his foot to stamp down hard on his wounded shoulder.

* * *

"Well done." Norway hissed at his other self. "Now you've gone and done it."

The other Norway groaned a little as he slowly eased into consciousness. "What have I do-"

He stopped as the sudden urge to cough cut off his speech. He covered his mouth with a gloved hand and coughed into it. Oh shit that hurt. It felt like he was trying to cough up knives of something. He gasped as he removed his hand. Blood. And a lot of it too. He could feel it sinking into the fabric of the glove. Then his taste kicked in. The unsettling taste of metal spread through his mouth like wildfire. What happened here? The 2p couldn't remember anything.

"What happened?" He asked, a horrified look on his face.

"Why don't you fucking see for yourself?" Norway spat, not even trying to withhold his feelings of dissatisfaction. No, dissatisfaction was an understatement. Resentment and anger described his feelings much better. With a swish of his hand he procured a reflective surface from the middle of nowhere. This was after all, the inside of his own head. He could do whatever he pleased, and this little asshole over there needed to see the extent of damage he had caused.

The other Norway gasped at first when he saw what he looked like. It took a few seconds before this really sank in. Then he screamed and went sprawling backwards. He was peppered with bullet holes. Third degree burns covered his face and arms, as well as several bruises. His clothes were in tatters and blood was everywhere.

"WHAT HAPPENED TO ME?!" He screamed, trying to crawl away from the grotesque image. But Norway waved his hand calmly and the entire space was covered with mirrors. Everywhere he looked there was that horrible image of the mutilated corpse.

"You happened. Your recklessness has destroyed my beautiful body." Norway's words were full of bile, and he advanced menacingly towards his other self. He had to admit that he was pretty vain.

"I-I didn't mean to." He sobbed.

"That doesn't matter." Norway gave him a dead glare as he picked the whimpering bloody mess up by the scruff of his neck and brought him eye level. "The scars will heal over time, but my memories won't. Don't forget that just because you took me over, that was still my body and I was in there. All your fucking fire antics hurt like fuck. Seriously! Why didn't you think with that small brain of yours? That pain might have been pleasure to you, but I had to feel it too. And let me tell you, it was not fun. Not everyone is in love with that fucking fire of yours!" He ranted, never letting go of his pathetic opposite self with his glare.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think... It was just so great to have a body again you kno-"

"NO! Don't even get me started with what you did to the house, and above all my family! You fucking set someone on fire! Don't you think that's going a little too far?"

"Okay, yeah that was a little too far. I'm sorry-" It was strange to think that just moments earlier this guy had been the one in control. Now he had been reduced to nothing within the fury of Norway's mind. It was a prison with no escape.

"NO!" He shouted again. "That's not an excuse. I expect you to pay for all of this!"

"You have to understand-"

"SHUT UP!" Norway roared. "WHAT WOULD YOU EVER UNDERSTAND?! You don't have the capacity to love, so you have nothing to lose." Suddenly he stopped, and took a deep breath. He dropped his now scared to death 2p and closed his eyes. When they opened, they were cold and empty, devoid of all the passion contained within only seconds ago.

"Get ready to pay the price."

"No!" The tattered other Norway squeaked, his eyes widening in fear as he slowly scuttled backwards. But the man in front of him was unrelenting. He exuded an aura of deathly cold as he slowly and painstakingly moved forwards. The 2p's mind raced. There had to be something that he could say…

"Your brother!"

Norway stopped. "What about him?" He hissed.

"He's in danger! Finland is about to beat him up!" He squeaked, closing his eyes and shielding himself with his arms in anticipation of whatever horrors the original owner of this body was sure to inflict upon him.

Norway stopped. "WHAT?!" He roared.

He removed an arm from his face and opened one eye. He had him on a hook, now there was only the matter of reeling him in…

"Yeah, it's happening outside right this moment!" He said, his voice taking on a crafty quality to it. "The others have their hands tied. You're the only one who can help."

Norway took a deep breath and seemed to think for a moment. On the one hand the thought of beating this asshole up was very enticing. On the other hand family always came first. It was one of those unspoken house rules they all abided by. The thought of Iceland being beaten up horrified Norway. Not his precious little bro. "You're spared. For now. I'm taking control back over my body, and you can't stop me."

"That's fine with me."

"Farewell." The image of Norway started to fade.

* * *

"That was close." The counterpart muttered to himself. "Now to scram outta here." If he relinquished control of this body and left, he would be able to escape. It was a bit of a shame though. This had been quite fun. Despite mostly having feelings of animosity towards his host, he still felt like he should thank him in some way.

His memories came back to him slowly as he started thinking. Finally, Norway's counterpart was struck with an idea.

"I hope you like it." He laughed gaily, projecting the memory into the space of his mind.

And then he too disappeared.

* * *

Norway's eyes jerked open. However, these were his normal dark blue colour. Shit his body hurt. He'd have to make this quick or he'd probably faint.

"I said no making noises you cunt!" Finland cried gleefully and raised his foot to stamp down hard on his wounded shoulder.

But he never got the chance to carry out this action, as a burned and bloody hand grasped his leg. Finland was so surprised that he froze for a split-second. His gaze travelled down his leg. Norway?! That was impossible! You can't just wake up like that after being shot multiple times just moments before.

"What the fu-"

Finland never finished his sentence. The hand yanked his raised leg sharply backwards, making him lose his balance. Finland crashed into the ground.

"YOU MOTHERFUCKER!" He screamed, kicking Norway's hand off and attempting to rise again. But by now Germany had seen his chance. He sprang up, wrestled the gun from Finland's hands and pinned him down in one swift motion.

"FUCKERS! ASSHOLES! GET OFF ME!" The maniac screamed, thrashing about as much as he could. But no matter how hard he struggled, Germany was much stronger than he was. Iceland had fallen on his knees at Norway's side.

"Brother? Brother are you awake?!" He asked and put a hand on Norway's bloody cheek, not really expecting an answer.

"YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE HOW DARE YOU SUDDENLY BE SO DAMN-" Finland shouted, but was cut off by Germany who had ripped a piece off his shirt to gag him. The rest of the sentence was just a bunch of meaningless muffled sounds, but it was pretty clear that whatever it was, it wasn't pleasant.

"Vaguely." Norway groaned, looking at his little brother with a pained expression.

"Oh my God he's alive!" Iceland shouted and hugged him as tightly as he could.

"Ouc-" The invalid started to say, but stopped halfway. His whole body hurt so much, but this hug was worth it. His little brother rarely expressed his affection towards him. He wanted it to end, but at the same time he didn't.

A memory popped into his head suddenly. It was strange, he couldn't recall that happening. "Hey. You know earlier?"

"Hm?" Iceland hummed, not letting go.

"You finally said it." Norway chuckled weakly. "Thanks."

With a final smile, he faded into sweet unconsciousness.

* * *

Tears were stinging Iceland's eyes. But this time it wasn't tears of pain, it was tears of happiness. He let go of his now limp brother, picked the gun up calmly and walked over to Sweden, who had been watching silently this entire time.

"Can you stand?" He asked, unable to hide the worry in his voice.

"MMMPH UMM FFMMPHIN MPH!" Finland swore from underneath his gag.

"I think so." Sweden muttered. "I may need some help though."

"Grab my shoulder. Not the injured one." Iceland said. This was a command.

"Mm." Sweden took hold of the boy's shoulder as lightly as he could. Iceland slowly rose, sweating from the effort as he supported the large man. Once that was done, Sweden put an arm around him and they both halted over to the now fervently swearing Finland. Iceland handed Sweden the gun.

"You do the honours."

"Fine." He dismissed it as if it was nothing. However, deep down he was glad Iceland had asked. He felt like this was his responsibility, and Iceland was way too young to be 'executing' people like this. "I can stand on my own."

"You sure?"

"Yes." His pride would not allow otherwise. He had to do this standing on his own two feet or he'd never be able to look his wife in the face again.

Iceland slowly let go of the burly man, who wobbled dangerously for a few seconds, but slowly stabilised. Sweden's brute force never ceased to amaze him.

Sweden grabbed the gun with sweaty palms and staggered the two remaining steps to where Finland was being pinned down. The maniac had understood what was happening, and was struggling and screaming more than ever now. Luckily the gag was there or the abuse would probably have sent Sweden off his tether. He lovingly caressed the handle of the old rifle, running his finger down the several scratches on its wooden handle. It had certainly been through a lot. Slowly he put his finger on the trigger and aimed carefully. Finland's eyes grew wide in fear. The muffled curses grew more desperate.

Tears filled his eyes. He hated doing this. But he knew he had to, for his pride's sake. A single tear rolled down the Swede's cheek as he took a deep breath to brace himself. Finland's eyes followed the tear as it splashed onto the ground and melted the snow. He stopped making noises and squirming. The knot on the gag became undone, God knows how. It was as if some invisible person had untied it. Finland's eyes flashed to his original colour, and he smiled at his executor.

"Thank you."

* * *

His face went blank as the bullet pierced his skull. Germany could feel him going limp.

"Is it over?" He asked, staring at Sweden. He was gripping the rifle so hard that his knuckles were pale white in colour in contrast to the blood smeared, slightly bruised skin.

"I believe it is." He sighed.

Denmark had missed everything, consumed as he was by his dream world. In reality he just lay there twitching and whimpering. Occasionally he threw out a hand as if to bat away an invisible creature.

"So what do we do now?" Iceland asked tentatively after a few moments of silence. Sweden's expression had become hardened and unreadable as he stared into space deep in thought.

"We go home."


End file.
